


Quintessence

by Salty_but_Sweet



Series: Quintessence AU [3]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Addiction, Anxiety, But very few actual spoilers, Character Study, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Digimon/Human Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mixed use of sub/dub names, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Slightly subjective narrator, Some themes of 'Tri', TK!02, Takeru!Older, Themes of suicide, Time Travel, no smut though, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_but_Sweet/pseuds/Salty_but_Sweet
Summary: 'Hope: To want something to happen or to be true, and usually have a good reason to think that it might.'- Life, however, doesn't always follow that path. And, when you end up face to face with your past, you might be forced to reflect whom you really have become.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have been playing with this storyline for about three years. Unsurprisingly, it has made no difference, so I thought I might as well publish a prologue to start from somewhere.
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

**Prologue**

 

Takeru wasn’t typically the type to complain about little things. Facing numerous life and death situations under the age of ten, going months without proper food, and walking for mile after mile, had taught him, and all the other Chosen Children, to be content with their lives.

However, the experiences in the Digital World also made them all more prone to stress, knowing how easily things could take a change for the worse. It also put all the kids, now teenagers and young adults, into the difficult grey-area between humans and Digimons.

As the years had passed since the attack of 1999 and the more minor battles of 2002 and 2005 the division of opinions had become more apparent. Now almost everyone in the main capital area of Tokyo had an opinion over Digimons. Heck, even more and more people around the World had started to voice opinions for and against Digimons. And despite the best of efforts of Takeru’s mother and Sora’s father, Digimons were far from being understood as anything more than children’s pets or murderous monsters. The opinions had become louder and sometimes impossible to ignore.

The situation affected them all, but Takeru felt particularly defenseless against the confrontation.

Takeru had always thought of himself to have a quite good sense of the news — most credit going to his parent’s professions in the media. Other than that, he liked to read and take a note of the public discussion. Apart from the older kids, he wasn’t as immersed with his studies thanks to his age, so he had more time to follow the newspapers and television.

Of course, behind his will to credit his discomfort for general awareness, there was an even greater and more profound need to keep everyone around him happy. _To keep everyone from fighting._ Thanks to his age, the Digital World had formed out to be quiet natural part of life — not to mention, that he couldn’t fathom a life without Patamon. But now defending those parts of his life were framing him as a bad person. And he had all his life tried to become a _good_ person, a good student, good at sports, well-mannered — someone who would keep his parents happy.

Somehow, these days, all those images he had set out for himself were being turned into dust for reasons he had hard time to relate to.

Takeru leaned against the wall, his school suitcase giving a dull thud as it hit the wall in his right hand. He breathed heavily, trying to control his nerves. To a person watching the only telltale sign of his thoughts would have been the tightening of the knuckles around the suitcase handle, and the slightly vacant, discerning look on his face. Digital World had left all the Chosen with another heritage of always trying to hide their feelings when under threat, to optimize the chances of keeping a cool head and waking up with one on the next day.

He had gotten into an argument with three kids of the neighboring class.

_About Digimons._

And not for the first time.

This time the situation had almost escalated into a fist fight — from his side.

The last few months with a growing number of distortions between the worlds had not caused large destruction, but it had made Digimons a media topic, and the public opinions more vocal.

And it was hard for him. Hard to listen mumbled discussions week after week, loud “facts” and whispered rumors about these Digital Monsters. And rumors of him, as he had made some name in giving out his own opinions in these discussions, where the end result seemed to have been made beforehand. He was liked by a good fraction of the student’s in the middle school, but the question of Digimons was starting to draw a rift between him and others. Still, he couldn’t give in the question for a bit.

Takeru managed to get his breath under control and took decided steps towards home and the portal to the Digital World. Koushirou had worked wonders with the Digital World for the last few years, and now they all could have their own home portal via their laptop or home-PC to get to the Digital World. It was the courtesy of the connection in Ichijouji’s computer in 2002 that had helped Koushirou to establish the portals.

And not at the wrong time. The distortions between the worlds were once again unsolved. Takeru could see the telltale signs of a smaller distortion near an add-billboard half-a-mile away. Luckily the distortions were in most cases too small for Digimons to cross the cap, so he could continue his way home with his solemn thoughts. The crisp autumn air tingled on his face and the wind blew his unruly hair in random waves. Little by little he had given up on wearing a hat. At first, it had been the school uniform and the older he got, the opportunities to have time to go anywhere in regular clothes had become limited.

Patamon hadn’t favored the change — and had made it uncharacteristically clear.

After arriving at home, Takeru took few fruits for a snack and refused to check his left elbow from the bathroom mirror. Even though the argument hadn’t become a fist fight, the teachers who had come to take the argument apart had forced him to take a step back. In his irritation, he had taken a step too far and scraped his elbow into a brick wall. Takeru could feel how some of the skin had scraped off but he was still too irritated to face the outcome.

He considered of changing his long shirt to a fresh one from the cupboard but a trip to the Digital world usually forced him to put his shirt in the laundry or the stitch-and-saw pile anyway, so he might as well save some work.

_For the third time in a month, he would be going to the Digital world alone_. Of course, Patamon would be there to accompany him, but none of the other kids had free space in their schedules. Naturally, the situation went both ways and almost everyone had made a trip or two on their own or in small teams. The younger teams more often than the older Chosen.

The knowledge didn’t manage to deter his frustration.

* * *

Patamon was waiting for him near the gate in one of the Digital World’s forest areas. For Takeru, it was always nice to visit the Digital World, he could leave his normal worries, mostly, to the other side of the gate. Personal issues felt quite small in the scale of a completely another world.

Unfortunately, the most recent problems with distortions had proven out to be difficult to solve. Not even Koushirou had managed to achieve an understanding of the distortions in the course of a few months. The distortions sometimes opened pathways to the Human World but more often than not they just released energy. The energy itself was a neutral, even if an unaccustomed, factor. The problems began when random Digimons got high-energy spikes for digivolution to higher stages. Sometimes the transformation caused no issues, but in some cases, the Digimon in question wanted to try out their newly found powers, and solve old grudges with new vigor. Because of the unbeknownst nature of the distortions, and the risks it posed, the Chosen Children had tried to find the cause for the energy eruptions but so far with no luck.

Moreover, because the energy eruptions were random occurrences, the kids had few other options than to visit previous sites or unravel fights between Digimons.

On a positive side, the situations rarely required many Chosen-Digimon couples so they could take turns on when to visit the Digital World.

Today was no more eventful than last week, and after three hours Takeru and Angemon were forced to take a break and settle a figurative plan for the next visit.

The clock was closing in on 9 p.m. and Takeru knew he would have to head towards home if he even toyed with the idea of being able to finish his homework for tomorrow’s classes.

In reality, he wasn’t that keen to go home and face his own real-life problems.

He didn’t know if he was that keen to stay idle in the Digital World either, but in some sense, it was simpler here with Angemon than thinking of the recesses of tomorrow.

Angemon seemed to have spotted his restlessness. Probably had spotted it the second he had emerged through the gate, but since his partner was who he was, Angemon hadn’t made a note of it.

This made Takeru grateful on one end. He didn’t want to open up about his problems at school. But on the other hand, the question didn’t leave him alone. He didn’t want to tackle the issue, he just wanted it to go away.

“I could come on Friday.” Takeru offered, forcing himself out of his thoughts into something productive.

Angemon nodded, slightly longer than usual, contemplating on the underlying question. “Didn’t you have a practice for the Saturday’s game?”

“Yeah. But I can come after that. We only have the hall for an hour and a half anyway.”

Angemon didn’t take his offer first-handed but was never one to outright challenge him on such a minor issue. “You are not obligated to spend your every free moment here.”

Takeru knew his partner well enough to know that Angemon wasn’t asking for distance between them but for him to take better care of himself. The answer didn’t manage to waver his decision. “It’s okay.”

“….for other’s benefit.” Angemon concluded after a pause.

This answer made Takeru take a step back from the conversation by averting his gaze and posture. He had been spotted.

He was not a person to open about his personal problems but when those things were already out, it was harder to push them down again.

He thought of apologizing for the others, that they were too busy. But it wasn’t his job. They all made choices, just different ones, and he shouldn’t have felt moral superiority by taking more of Digital Worlds problems on his own back. _Despite this, the situation still bothered him._

Behind the question was a fear of something larger. Something he didn’t want to face. Something that would have marked him even more as a bad person.

“Do you think…. do you think I’ll visit here even when in High School?” The question wasn’t uttered loudly but it was enough for Angemon to hear it with his sensitive hearing. It was a shameful question. In terms of asking whether you would still be a good person in the future even if you would do things you felt were wrong.

Takeru didn’t dare to look at Angemon apart from a brief glance, but he could hear the small almost inaudible sigh from the angel Digimon. Angemon wasn’t only one who had learned to read his partner over the years.

“Do you want to?”

It wasn’t an accusation.

It wasn’t a test of feelings.

It was a question of what he thought, what he wanted.

It was a question with an extremely easy answer.

“Yes. But I don’t…. They all want to visit here as well. Almost every time I contact Yamato he brings up the Digital World. I think the others are the same but still… “ Takeru paused to find the right words and courage to utter them aloud. “They just don’t have the time.”

Takeru stared at the horizon between the trees, pulling his almost constant thoughts into words. “High School is going to take more time next year. And University even more. Families. Job. I remember a few years back when mom always complained about not having the time to read a new best-seller. She didn’t have time to read a book, and we… we are talking about traveling through different worlds. — Somehow it all seems so difficult.” Takeru concluded quietly.

Against Takeru’s fears, Angemon just listened, not taking any personal distress over the matter. Takeru had a sneaking suspicion that Angemon had deliberately stayed in his higher form a little while longer to have this conversation.

“Wanting to do something and wanting to want something are different things.” Angemon began with his normal deep and matter-of-fact tone. “Just because the older kids say they want to be more involved in the Digital World doesn’t necessarily mean that it would be the uttermost motive in their decisions. They might see it important and want to be that kind of people. But it might not mean that it’s the most important thing for them in the world at the moment. You have all been very tied to this world’s problems from a very young age. I think it’s natural for them to want and try life outside of school and Digital World. Whatever path you want to follow is okay as well.”

Takeru couldn’t help his brown from furrowing when listening to Angemon’s thoughts. How his partner could always put things into so plain boxes and be okay with them all. This was a question that had distressed him for months, that touched something very crucial in his identity. And he was just supposed to accept it as fine either way? Takeru wasn’t the type to shout it all out at Angemon but he wasn’t able to absorb the mentality either.

“So we just hope for it to all work out?”

The words came out a hint more bitter than expected but Angemon knew him, and the message he was trying to cross.

“Yes.”

This time Takeru didn’t answer, trying desperately to find an answer or response.

“Isn’t that enough?”  Angemon prodded calmly.

“And if it fails?” Takeru took a sparing look at Angemon, wanting for _once_ to see the angel Digimon’s eyes, see some resemblance of his own fears. “I can…. We can hope but… Mom and dad aren’t getting back together. Yamato is going to move out to study soon. No matter how much I have hoped. I’d give anything to be part of a family again. But somehow… it isn’t enough. With us…. I don’t want to fail in that too. I can’t. We are partners.” Takeru uttered, his speech getting more emotional with every sentence, the words collapsing on each other in a jumbled mess.

Angemon took a step closer from his spot and moved his arms around the young teen, trying to offer support.

“Hope is not that we know things to end up automatically every time. Hope is that despite that seems impossible we still try to do the right thing and not lose faith.” Angemon murmured softly.

After a few seconds, Angemon could feel the young boy to nod shakily against his chest and he let go.

Takeru took an unconscious step back out of the uncertainty he felt. For some reason, this time Angemon’s words hadn’t managed to calm his anxiousness. He nodded again, trying to make himself to accept the mentality, but somehow, deep down he knew that he would probably fall into a new fight before soon.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Could it become easier when you witnessed someone at the gunpoint at the age of 8?  When your partner was almost swallowed by monsters? Could you learn to live with the dread?

In those moments, it had been the adrenaline that enabled the saving of the world. To carry on and exceed one’s limits.

However, that adrenaline was gone now.

Only the aggravated heartbeat, blood pressure, and dread remained.

And as Angemon watched the shaky rise and fall of the chest of Takeru’s unconscious form, he knew that there was no promise of a resolution for the situation.

During a battle you always know that the situation is going to be resolved in one way or another within the next few minutes; the need for energy is short term. Now he had no idea how long he would, they all would, need to preserve their energy, and keep on fighting.

Angemon tapped his white-clad right-hand fingers once against the soft padding of the chair. More so as an unconscious gesture than an effort to make the time to go faster.

There was a fleeting thought that the dangerous near to death experiences should have made him more optimistic. He knew that Takeru was tougher than he looked.

_Had always been a lot tougher than his tiny frame and young age had predisposed._

But this was different from those times. Takeru had never been put against himself, against his own fears. And when he had been tested against those aspects on the sidelines of larger courses of action, Takeru had not been as capable as with immediate danger. Whereas other Chosen had managed to grow slowly amidst adversaries and face their personal problems, the same thing couldn’t be said about Takeru.

Talking about personal problems or admitting own weaknesses had always been difficult for the young boy.

Angemon couldn’t say that he would have been more adept on the negative emotional aspects but for his benefit, the fears and darkness looming around his mind felt weaker by comparison.

Takeru was extremely pale against the bedspread — ill-looking. Takeru had lost weight, especially over the last few months, as the pain and anxiety had diminished his appetite. There were new lines on Takeru’s face and the bags under his eyes and the slightly thinner hair added to his appearance.

Angemon took a glance at the two IV-bags and one blood-supply, just to compulsively check that they had not run dry.

Yamato, nor either of the bothers’ parents had yet to reach the hospital.

This was the third time Takeru had been taken in in the course of two months and Angemon had a suspicion that the urgency had worn off with the visits. Not to mention, that Takeru had spent such a fair share of his young adulthood in the said hospital.

_The urgency hadn’t decreased on his behalf._

Angemon could still feel the same dread, the same finality as he had when Devimon had almost killed Takeru. Even if the event itself sometimes seemed to belong into another lifetime, the acute fear of losing Takeru had become deeply etched in his core.

Shou had briefly mentioned last time that they could talk about updating Takeru’s med-kit and his expertise to be able to deal with the situation at home. Angemon wasn’t sure if he wanted to proceed with the idea. Takeru hated hospitals, but the concept felt more closely to what humans called terminal-care than anything else. That it was no use of bringing Takeru to the hospital because no-one could really do anything. That Takeru’s fate was to suffer.

The feeling of dread intensified. He hadn’t never really known where he got his sense of right and wrong, just that it had always been a clear opposition. Good and evil were powers that he could have recognized eyes closed, even if the world was turned upside down. Takeru’s suffering made him feel every bit of that wrongness. That Takeru being destroyed by darkness was an unmentionable injustice. With all his knowledge, Angemon couldn’t explain the feeling, because even as a Chosen Child, Takeru’s importance to the universal balance of life was small — only thing he did know was that it was personal.

Takeru was the definite last person in any world that Angemon would have opted for such pains but here they were. Again.

As the clock ticked in the opposite wall, Angemon couldn’t escape the knowledge that he had known his choices might result to this.

That Takeru might not end up dead. That instead Takeru might end-up _worse_ than dead.

And he had made that choice because he couldn’t have made any other. Because he wanted to protect the boy. Because he wanted to savor the hope. _Because he needed hope himself._

And somehow the small boy had taken up that challenge. Takeru had formed a solid relationship with all his past difficulties, had learned to look ahead and most importantly had wanted to grow as a person. To become a good person who did right choices. But now those choices were costing him far too much.

Takeru wanted to be involved in the Digital World, wanted to be involved with him, and refused to give into the darkness even with the expense of his own life. And they were all reasons why Angemon had opted to choose to be partners with Takeru. More than that, they were the lessons _his_ actions had imprinted in Takeru.

And Angemon couldn’t fight the dread that was overcoming him because of it.

In some distant sick way, he welcomed the torture of having to wait for Takeru to wake up and just watch how unsteady his partner’s breathing was.

* * *

Hours went by with a few visits from Shou and the nurses. Takeru’s mother had visited around 6 p.m. and Yamato and their dad around two hours later. It was an appalling wait. Miraculously the waiting was also an act he had somehow accustomed to over the years. It was one of those points where, after a few hours, the time seemed to slot into a steady routine, something they had survived previously. Being in the hospital under advanced care promoted the fake sense of control and advancement; they were actively contributing to a positive, visible, change. For a day or two, Takeru’s condition was a straightforward problem that could be fixed.

Angemon prided himself to be adept at waiting. In some sense, he had always been waiting. The first time he had been waiting for the kids to appear in the Digital World. And again. And again. Spotted by briefer cycles of waiting for Takeru to come home from school.

_This life seemed to consist of waiting for Takeru to wake up._

It was only after 2 a.m. when Takeru’s heart monitor indicated for a stronger, faster heartbeat. Angemon allowed himself to fix his posture and touch Takeru’s thin arm. As a fleeting thought, his muscles protested from the prior lack of movement but the rise in Takeru’s consciousness override the thought almost immediately from conscious recollection.

“Morning.” Angemon began quietly as a response to Takeru’s almost non-auditory grunt. The light panel on the bedside-wall was on, more for Takeru’s than Angemon’s benefit but it lessened the surprise impact.

It took some time and raspy breaths for Takeru to open up his eyes and take a figurative glance at Angemon and their surroundings.

Angemon held Takeru’s gaze steadily for a good five minutes before becoming assured that Takeru could actually take in information.

“You had a anxiety attack at home. Your lost consciousness. We’ve been at the hospital for about 15 hours.”

Takeru’s gaze wandered towards a distant spot at the end of the bed that Angemon couldn’t see. Despite being awake Takeru was clearly having trouble taking in the information and situating himself into here and now.

The young man’s right hand went tentatively right to his heart as if to feel the aftershocks from the heart attack. The prior one-inch movement of his left hand clearly signaled that he was even more disoriented than he tried to let on.

Takeru’s gaze was still chasing for something unknown but transferred more consistently to Angemon little by little.

“What time it is?”

“2.14 a.m.” Angemon answered, partially relieved to be on a more solid ground: facts and certainties that he could assure.

“Are you in pain?” Angemon continued by questioning steadily, resting his left elbow on his knee and leaning forward, closer to Takeru.

“A little.” Takeru answered relaxing a little back to the pillows after having gained a somewhat adequate resemblance of his surroundings.

Angemon knew Takeru would turn down his proposition, but he had to offer to call in the nurse to bring stronger pain medication.

For a while the angel Digimon could just watch his partner, knowing that they both would probably go in and out of sleep for the rest of the night.

Takeru didn’t say anything but there was something in his eyes that Angemon had spotted on passing glances during the last few months, but under the soft light and inside the hard white walls, there was something more prominently misplaced in Takeru’s eyes. Takeru’s gaze moved to him every once in a while but more so Takeru seemed to reflect himself against his surroundings; memorizing but feeling out of place at the same time.

Angemon couldn’t help the small bitter smile. In moments like this, he felt he could understand every single thought in Takeru’s head. Some people could do that with the right amount of eye-contact but they had become far more adept on reading each other. In the back of his mind, the cost of that loomed as unacceptably high but on the other part the cost was irrelevant. At this moment, it was only the two of them. Inside a busy, University-level hospital with thousands of people, in middle of the night, it was only two of them in a very sterile, very quiet, room. It was far beyond those questions and propositions people usually make for the other party to go and get some tea or refresh one’s mind so that the caretaker could try and refill some energy for the next day. There was no time, no place. In some way, the life they should have been living instead of this place was as it was never even meant to exist. Angemon knew, they both knew, that it would come out as a looming shadow again once the sun was up and the nurses and visitors were coming and going. But once all that was gone, there was only them.

Angemon could sense the slight faltering of Takeru’s mood as the young human clearly needed a connection to something else than hospital walls and IV-tubes. Angemon replied by moving his hand to stroke the inner side of Takeru’s right arm. The touch might have eased Takeru’s mood, but for the angel Digimon it brought back the dread. In some distant thought he would have wanted to cry for the wrongness of it all, the guilt for it all, the guilt for deep down knowing that he would have made all the same choices.

Maybe it was easier like this. To take things as they were.

“Will they release me tomorrow?” Takeru asked weakly, managing to break the silence despite the evident extortion in his voice.

Angemon felt a wave of mournfulness, knowing that he was forced to give the answer his partner least wanted. “I think they’ll want to keep you for observation for a day or two.” Angemon concluded gently, the indulging apologizing tint of his tone softening the note for Takeru.

The human was too tired to give a pointless argument, his gaze once again losing its focus.

They were both silent for over ten minutes before Takeru took an unsteady breath and tried to cover from Angemon’s gaze by shifting his own gaze downward.

“Does it hurt?”

It was a soft question. A question Angemon had readied himself to hear at some point.

_Dying._

Angemon had to take a contemplative glance over the bedspread — not to elude the question but to reflect it, because at the moment, they had all the time in the world.

Takeru had asked only few weeks prior whether he knew what happened to a Digimon or human after death. Having an intuition that being an angel type Digimon, Angemon might have some clue of the matter — at least something more than he did. Ken and Wormmon’s death a few years back had given an indication of that. But Angemon had politically refused to answer. It was long ago that Takeru had learned that the angel type Digimons’ had their moral code of conduct they wouldn’t step out of. It just one of those things he needed to accept. Had always wanted to accept. In some sense from the very beginning Angemon had held this magical aura to him that he still, over fifteen years later, didn’t want to break.

Angemon stroked Takeru’s arm, feeling the skin under his thumb, the alive flesh and bone of a young man who had become almost another part of him.

“You know I have never really died. “ Angemon rebutted sympathetically, offering the slightest tint of humor they both could share despite the situation.

The tone change in Takeru’s eyes told that Takeru took in the quip. Moreover, Takeru didn’t remark Angemon’s rebuttal or try to repeat the question. Takeru knew that Angemon wasn’t the type of person to readily change his mind; and if the angel Digimon didn’t answer to the first inquiry, he most likely wouldn’t answer for the fourth attempt.

Angemon dared to leave the question unanswered, foremostly because he didn’t have a clear answer. But more than that, he knew Takeru wasn’t _really_ asking whether dying hurt. The implication of the question having much heavier weight than the question itself.

They held eye contact for a long time, and during those moments Angemon’s feeling of dread evaporated.

“I think we’ll be okay.” Angemon settled, in the end, softening his tone and leaning closer to Takeru.

 “You know or you hope?” Takeru asked, the humored stab in his voice once again challenging his partner’s steadfastness despite his obvious tiredness.

“Hope.” Angemon concluded, the resolution in his voice rising up to the challenge. Yet, the sympathetic purse of lips, told Takeru that beneath the meaningless banter, Angemon fully acknowledged his stance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! I smashed together the first two outlined chapters for less clutter, so I hope the pace of things is alright. I originally had more slice-of-life parts for the other Digidestined, but ultimately the 200-word moments felt superfluous to the main idea of the story. Anyway, we're still laying the groundwork for the story, and it's interesting (read: onerous) to write. I have nearly 50 pages of text ready, but they're from a much later part of the story, so for once I'm trying to learn my way to write an actual story than just singular one-shots. Comments and con.crit is very much welcomed! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

Darkness can be categorized as the lack of light. When everything looks black. When there is no light, the surfaces of objects — the surfaces of people — do not have anything to reflect, disabling the spotting and gauging of objects, and people. That is, if everything is pitch black. Because, as long as there is even the smallest glimmer of light, the eye works to draw the slightest of edges to one’s field of vision.

However, this was exactly the pure version of darkness.

Not the kind where you can see even a rough outline to pave your way, or the relaxing, comfortable darkness where the city lights or stars signal of done deeds and life around you.

No, it was the kind of darkness that swallows one up and chews the bones for dessert. Darkness that drowns one in anxiety and anguish, alone, unable to reach anyone.

Darkness.

* * *

There was a cacophony of noises somewhere further away from Takeru. But up close, it felt like he was in a bubble that kept the noises from fully reaching him, mutating them on the way. In the middle of the disorder, of the deafening quietness, Takeru was surprised that he could _hear_ his own heartbeat which seemed to beat abnormally calmly compared to the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins two hundred miles per hour.

_Wasn’t he breathing?_

He had to.

He had to be alive because the amount of _pain_ he was feeling would have been a clinical impossibility otherwise.

Takeru wasn’t sure how long he was trapped in the nightmare as time seemed to have no direction.

The darkness took different shapes; every creature wailing their own pain somewhere very close to him, but still out of his reach.

_The feeling of pain intensified to match his adrenaline levels._

The sound of the sea and the wind — that from the start shouldn’t have been able to wave his hair — were disappearing from his consciousness, it was then when his darkness took its infamous form. A very familiar face stared at him with two red eyes and a sneer on its face.

However — just as it was about to attack, he felt a hand on his shoulder, accompanied by an echo of his own name. His wake was so swift that he was unable to grasp the change of the face into an even more familiar one.

_Takeru._

The 28-year-old woke with a raspy gasp of breath that held more resemblance to a drowning person reaching the surface than an unconscious man awakening.

For a few minutes, Takeru was almost completely obvious to everything around him, trying to balance his breathing and ignore the rapid thumping of his heart in his chest.

His hands could only grasp linen and the metallic railing on his right.

When Takeru finally began to look around him, he could notice the painstaking whiteness that was surrounding him in the bed. Conversely, it was dark outside, indicating that the clock had to be on wee hours. A small TV on the opposite wall and the three chairs packed neatly on top of each other on the left corner confirmed his suspicions over his residence.

A hospital.

The information didn’t help his heartbeat or breathing the slightest but on some level, he knew he would need to take some comfort over the knowledge.

Takeru gazed at the IV-tube leading to his right hand. Uncommon choice, but understandable based on the parcel that contained his left arm.

He felt feverish. Ill for the lack of a better word.

The lack of Shou or Angemon triggered his consciousness about memories of jumping between worlds and distortions, and ending up somewhere he was not supposed to be.

With sheer willpower, the blond-haired man hoisted himself into a sitting position to gain a better view of the room and the machinery he was connected to.

Because Shou wasn’t there, because Angemon wasn’t there, and most importantly, because the TV on the opposite wall looked as if it belonged into a wrong decade, Takeru could reason that he most likely was indeed somewhere where he shouldn’t cause nor answer any questions.

How he would manage that on the other hand, was a question to be answered.

After a quick situation analysis, Takeru decided that he probably could leave the hospital on his own —and the sooner the better.  If he would be present in the morning, he would need to answer questions from the police and the hospital staff over his medical history and identity. Fortunately, his locked shoulder back was in the room, and during the nighttime, the hospital would most likely have less personnel to surpass.

Any of his escape scenarios didn’t however remove his most pressing concern. The fact that he had already been seen and registered as a patient, based on his feeble strength and trip to the hospital most likely as a police case as well. Whatever he did couldn’t eradicate the possible changes his appearance alone was causing as a butterfly effect.

He just had to hope the effect would only be a ripple in the sea, and not a full-sized world-disturbing earthquake.

* * *

Maybe it was his pure willpower to leave the hospital setting but leaving the hospital proved out to be quite straightforward compared to the past close-calls in the Digital World.

Facing the humid night air of Tokyo’s early autumn, Takeru had to stop to take in the scenery ahead of him. The action was not so much out of dire need due to the lack of people walking around at 3 a.m. but out of mentally adjusting himself to the new situation.

The dark nighttime, the handful of people walking on the streets and the distant bellow of a closing ambulance made him shiver and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.

The feeling didn’t fully register as fear. Instead, Takeru felt a deep-seated anxiety and revulsion that he had been unwilling to place for a few years now. However, every time he “surfaced” the human world, the feeling had become more and more normalized and unpleasant companion. The more he had tried to repel the feeling, the more twistedly accustomed his brain had become to spot it the second he jumped between the worlds.

Amidst the skyscrapers, Takeru forced his mind to focus on the material necessities he was facing; he would need to find a place to stay, get food and find Angemon.

Any of those was easier said than done, but achieving all three would take several days. A time window his wired-up mind and anxiety would surely not favor.

Food and shelter were the easiest thanks to Koushirou, and Takeru could mentally feel the minimal weight of the modified credit card in the bag.

It was also one of those things that told him how far all of them had come from their youth.

Takeru held back a hard sigh and started to walk deeper into the city.

He could sense that Angemon wasn’t in the human world. Blink-and-your-miss-it thoughts that he couldn’t quite grasp gave him a feeling of the guard levels, most likely the forest or beach of the Dark Ocean. The situation was, however, made difficult by the fact that he had no idea how long he had been out, or how the distortions affected the timelines of different worlds.

He couldn’t even say with any certainty that the two of them had ended up in the same _time_ , but for some subconscious reason, that particular fear failed to override his thoughts as a likely option.

Takeru’s steps took him to a local Internet café. He would have needed more sleep. But he would most likely be unable to get any rest in the given circumstances. Instead, he opted for the other necessity he needed — information.

The (blood-free) pack-up shirt and his slightly disheveled appearance fit right in with the rest of the customers of the early hours. After a careful selection of an empty spot, Takeru began his search quest; typing everything possible into the search engine, whether it was about the latest news or local schools’ football matches.

Before Takeru crawled his way to the vending machine to quash his hunger-related nausea with food-induced nausea he managed to spot the news article about himself on the Tokyo News.

“ _An unknown 20–30-year-old man was found unconscious at the home electronics department at a local electronics store at Akihabara. The man had sustained some injuries and the case is inspected by the police. All witnesses are asked to report to their local police or call the national police hotline._  
_Natsuko Takaishi_ ”

* * *

”We should be heading back already.”

“Already? We can’t let those people get anymore ahead of us.”

Everyone else of the younger Digidestined gave an audible sigh, “Come on Daisuke. We even have school tomorrow, and Miyako still needs to go and help her parents with the store.”

“Fine…”

TK half wished that he could have supported Daisuke’s determination to hunt down Arukenimon and Mummymon but lately, neither luck nor time had seemed to be on their side. They were still amidst trying to help and repair the damage the Digital World had suffered under the Digimon Emperor’s rule. Now they were under a new threat whose objective was still unclear for them.

The blond noticed himself to wonder once or twice if the objective even mattered because, in the end, their enemy was wreaking havoc in the Digital World. And in his eyes that was always unforgivable.

The older Digidestined, namely Taichi, Yamato and Koushirou had promised to come to their help tomorrow, but today the younger Chosen Children and their partner Digimons found themselves getting up from the school’s computer class’s floor, with one more useless day behind them.

Miyako left in a hurry to the shop, and as everyone else turned to their ways, Chibimon was left waving enthusiastically over Daisuke’s shoulder with Daisuke’s goodbyes ringing in the air after him.

The walk home proved to be uneventful for TK and Iori, unless two dog walkers and some amount of passing cars could be found exciting. Not many words were being exchanged, but on this occasion, neither of the friends felt the need for that either; both deep in thought. Patamon and Upamon, on the other hand, were already fast asleep on their partners’ laps.

Even after TK bid Iori good night, and entered his home, the small nagging voice in the back of his head, didn’t finish feeding his doubts. It was true that they had gotten more experience since Emperor’s uprising, and even Daisuke was starting to get the hang of leadership. V-mon, Hawkmon, and Armadillomon, and not forgetting about Wormmon, were acquiring more experience and getting stronger every day. However, the older Digidestined had had very little time to help in the Digital World. They had stated that maybe it was now the younger kids turn to take the lead. At first, their stay on the sidelines could have been reasoned by the existence of dark towers, and the inability to evolve, thus forcing them out of battles. However, that was not the case anymore.

Dark towers were still there, but they didn’t block the digivolving process anymore. School, Mimi living in another continent, Yamato’s band practices, and everything else was intervening. It reminded TK strongly of what Taichi and Koushirou had been complaining after Diaboromon’s attack couple years back. _“We have the whole Digital World collapsing on us, and we get no one to help. Birthday parties, phone problems, exams… Have we really gotten so far apart of each other?”_ What would happen in the future? They were only getting older; school was getting tougher, moving other cities to study, not to mention jobs, family… Could they still be able to keep the Digital World safe? Would they still _want_ to keep the digital world safe? Could he grow out of the digital world? Of Patamon? And the Digital World was surely going to need protection if the signs were any indicator. Fourth to fifth war in what? Three or four years?

With a quick shake of the head, TK tried to clear his head. His mother was already at home and finishing an article in the living room.

“How was your day?”

“Fine.” Was the easiest reply TK could think of, and after dropping off Patamon on the sofa and his school bag on his room, he went to check the refrigerator for food.

Upon his return to the living room, TK noticed the look his mother was giving him. It was the inquisitor look – as Yamato had once phrased it with a hint of dread— a look that both of their parents had mastered over their years as reporters. The superfluously neutral gaze was just a camouflage for the alert interest that only a professional reporter and a parent could pose.

It was also a look TK had learned to fight off with as superfluous, albeit much more transparent, easy-going attitude.

After some seconds he seemed to pass the test. Whether it was due to his young age or the acting experience he had learned during saving both worlds at the age of eight, he wasn’t sure.

 “He disappeared.” Natsuko finally commented, the tone hiding the meaning behind her message.

“Who?” TK asked while giving Patamon the onigiri-wrap, positioning himself on the sofa for the sake of the conversation.

“The unknown mugged guy.”

TK looked at his mother, the case coming back to his mind with a passing memory of Koushirou mentioning distortions in his message about tomorrow. “Oh.”

Natsuko seemed to reflect his stance for a moment, not taking her eyes away from her work for more than a quick glance. “Usually anything out of the ordinary here seems to have a connection to the Digital World and Digimons. Just saying it as a hunch.” Natsuko stated, eyeing at the onigiri that was little by little disappearing in Patamon’s paws, before looking Takeru straight in the eyes with composed worry etched on her own.

* * *

TK closed the door behind him with an absent mindset.

“Something wrong TK?

The shift in TK’s mood was instant by the small Digimon’s question as an amiable smile replaced the traces of wandering thoughts.

“No. Just thinking about the Digital World.”

“Okay.” His partner nodded impartially.

 “Maybe…” But he left the sentence hanging.

“What?” Patamon asked, supporting himself now with his front paws, while at the same, tilting his small head a little to the side, watching him intently and much more awake than a minute ago.

After pulling his pajama shirt over his head, TK moved to look out of the window. He really wasn’t thinking of Arukenimon or Mummymon, or the Digital World, in particular. Something was just ebbing in the corners of his mind, like he should be aware of something he very clearly wasn’t aware of.

“I don’t know.”

The strong silence was accompanied by TK’s gaze to Patamon’s direction. With the depth of their friendship, the answer was easier to convey through looks only, earning a slightly more pensive nod from Patamon.

And with one final look towards the city, they bid each other good night and began to sleep.

Nevertheless, it turned out to be one of _those_ nights, and every once in a while TK woke up — just to make sure that Patamon was still next to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who minds 'Tri' spoilers, we are moving into a more uncharted territory. The main story line was thought out before 'Tri', but I'm incorporating some characters etc. to the fic - albeit extremely heavily altered. If you haven't watched all of 'Tri' and don't want any information then turn back and come back later. However, IMO this fic is strongly AU that the affect of spoilers is the same as watching movie 1 and speculating from that on on what might happen. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

It was the fourth day and Angemon was finally closing in on the distortion with a half a day’s journey left.

He had opted to walk in the thick undergrowth of the bushes where the beach and forest battled for land. The progress was much slower but the angel type Digimon didn’t have the will or the energy to become an easy target on the open beach or in the air-space above the murky green canopy.

His wings and suit were tattered from here and there, courtesy of the many close calls of the last five months that had left few opportunities to heal or patch garments. However, despite his tiredness, his steps were still as brisk as they could be in the given circumstances and he was not going to let any banished soul from the undergrowth to overpower him.

During times like this, he somewhat resembled the Rambo-look Takeru had good-naturedly chuckled into the air a few months back. At over 2 meters tall and all muscle, Angemon was not a presence to be overshadowed. The cuts in his skin and the rips on the suit only added to the combat-effect. For years now, Angemon had opted to keep his hair on a hairband to prevent it from hindering his vision and movements in battle, his higher level habit rubbing in on him.

All in all, he looked like the battle-hardened warrior he had been forced to grow into. He was trying to maintain constant alertness; the lower part of his face in an almost unbroken frown.

The cocky, slightly superior attitude he had posed upon his first transformations seemed exaggeratedly naïve nowadays.

Takeru had joked about the issue in a way only a close friend could; making a note how the angel-type Digimon had looked like an elegant and righteous warrior from heaven when transforming in front of Daisuke and V-mon when they had been rescuing Hikari. Nowadays Angemon resembled more of a provoked fighter who was going to beat the holy-snot out of anyone without a blink of an eye. Someone whose demeanor could dissect the opponent’s opinions by a look only.

A remarkable feat, since Angemon’s eyes were still hidden by the half-face mask.

Now, the coldness of the air was underlined by the strong wind from the icy-black sea. Even after four days the emotions and energy from the sea were impossible to ignore even for a moment. Angemon could feel the darkness radiating from the sea with every byte in his body. The wind raged like a monsoon wind, bringing with it the heavy rains of a murkier season.

It wasn’t the water itself that unnerved him; it was the particles and energy that would most certainly be integrated into the tiny droplets. The message of the areas of the great unknown and evil that were evaporated into the air and carried in large quantities towards the land.

_Land that was not supposed to be covered with drowning masses of water._

The distortion ahead of him was another symbol of trouble. Angemon had been able to place himself to the date and the year with quite a good accuracy and he could remember their trip to the edges of the second guard-level to rescue Hikari; the same lines he was now walking along. Even if the distortions had existed here before, something felt more off.

Normally the guard-levels would work to seal the evil to the edges of the Digital Realm, into their own world from where they shouldn’t be able to harm the rest of the Digital World. But the wind and the small distortions Angemon could sense in his surroundings told him that the walls between the levels — between the worlds — were being weakened.

For his benefit, that would also enable his escape from this prison to the Digital World or straight to the Human World to find Takeru.

Angemon’s face hardened more as he thought about his human partner. He knew that Takeru was capable of taking care of himself but the worry always lingered. It was almost a mode of self-defense: if he worried, he would be prepared to protect and therefore faster to act when things would go wrong.

The tablet via which they usually kept contact was unsurprisingly unwilling to cooperate over the distortions and none of the angel Digimon’s messages went through.

Takeru might be able to fight, might be able to adapt to the situation. But Angemon knew with an unreleased sigh that Takeru was not adept at being alone and being unable to locate him.

To make matters worse, he had a large part of Takeru’s drugs and medication. Takeru had rest of the bag-pharmacy with him (minus the back-up they always split between their two bags — just in case).

The attack from the three Taomons had forced them to take down their camp with great speed, and in the managed chaos some of their belongings had ended up in the wrong bag before they had hopped to the distortion that had brought them here.

It was not many meters after Angemon’s line of thought had revolved back to Takeru’s condition when he had to duck an attack from his right; the sound of the attack reaching him only after he had already rolled to the bushes.

“Double Scissor Claw!”

The feeling of rushing adrenaline was quickly in his mind. The decade of experience had honed his senses to act fast and ignore everything else.

Angemon crouched near the ground, his right hand holding tightly on the staff. The strong wind rustled the trees and the bushes, and from amidst the undergrowth, it was extremely difficult to spot the air-attacker.

He would most likely be able to handle a single Okuwamon, but the areas of the Dark Ocean rarely followed the estimated laws of probability.

However, the undergrowth protected him from an open battle, and the next attack hit a tree eight meters to his right.

The blast from the attack blew the tree into the air as sub-atomic particles, making a clearing that now portrayed the grey sky above.

Angemon’s heart beat fast but the fact was oblivious to himself, his whole being focusing on detecting movement _around_ him.

At the exact same time as he spotted Okuwamon, Okuwamon spotted him. By a reflex, Angemon shot a Holy Knuckle against Okuwamon, the resounding boom shattering the air and blowing dead leaves and sticks around. The force-wave of the combined attacks made Okuwamon release an angry screech and seemingly making it stop its conquest. Angemon too, was forced to shelter himself from the blast, but as his attacker flew towards the open sea he could feel a tiny seed of relief.

The relief didn’t, however, override the solemnity of the message left by the attack; and as Angemon watched the small dot of Okuwamon to evaporate into the thundering rain over the sea with small drips of blood dropping to the ground from his own arms, he knew very well that their travel had not gone unspotted.

* * *

“According to Koushirou’s information, there should be one Black Tower about a mile in that direction”, Miyako analyzed.

“Right, we’ll take the third tower down tonight!” Daisuke coached, feeling how everyone was already getting a little tired to get home and sleep, and therefore in need of some cheerful leadership. It was one of the ways in which he resembled — and more importantly — wanted to take after Taichi’s leadership. The coaching-style of a football captain that makes the team give 110 % at every game.

Right now, the group of five kids and five Digimon partners was strengthened by the company of Ichijouji and Wormmon whom they had promised to meet near the second destroyed tower. The black-haired boy was extremely quiet, trying to blend into the background of the large city with his grey uniform. The city they were in was large according to the Digital World standards, even if still mostly deserted by the courtesy of the Dark Tower. Ken had been visibly nervous when entering the area, but given the location of the towers, the city was a logical plan. 

“That looks so cute!”

Miyako’s sudden high-note made everyone turn to look at the lifestyle shop’s window and a highly decorated statue representing a Lilymon and a Lilamon greeting nature amidst flowers and vines.

“Too bad, we can’t buy it for Mimi since the shop is closed.” Hikari commented with soft remorsefulness.

“What the heck is this stuff?” Daisuke asked, voicing TK and Iori’s thoughts as they had spotted the rest of the items in the window. Among others, the items contained a piggy-bank modeled after Mamemon and a larger than life poster of Etemon.

“Do you think Digimon’s buy these things?” Iori asked from no-one in particular with a hint of honest curiosity.

Hikari beat Tailmon’s ‘I wouldn’t’ with, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe it just resembles our world.” TK offered, straightening his hat as Patamon had, for once, relied on his own wings.

“Perhaps.” The youngest boy surmised imperturbably, his eyes lingering in the items a few more moments before the group carried on their way.

It took the group about a quarter of an hour to reach the site of the Black Tower, and actually find and begin to destroy it amidst the high-rise buildings.

“Exe-Laser!”

“Rosetta Stone!”

“Spiking Finish!”

“Genocide Attack!.”

“What?!”

Once again, it was Miyako’s exclamation that got everyone’s attention focused, this time on the agitated Gigadramon making its way to the scene.

“What do we do now?” Iori asked.

“We can try to drive it away”, TK suggested, earning a collective nod from the other Destined.

The Digimon partners listening to their conversation began to show their powers to Gigadramon, shooting near-misses. However, after a couple of attacks and one close call between Ex-Veemon and Gigadramon the children and Digimons alike were starting to realize that the Gigadramon wasn’t to be scared off so easily. 

More than that, the Gigadramon wasn’t giving them any mercy thus forcing the Digimons to respond with stronger attacks.

“Do you think it’s a Black Tower Digimon?” Miyako asked, a tone of clear worry in her voice.

“But the Black Tower is still standing.” Hikari commented perturbed, her gaze leaving the battle and looking at the others for reassurance on how to handle the situation.

“There might have been another tower.” Daisuke offered with much less panic and more control than others.

“There wasn’t, these were the only three towers here.” Iori cried to make his young voice heard over the noises of the battle.

All the children were looking at the battle above them with a sense of uncertainty, knowing that their respective partners were waiting for them to reach a conclusion.

“If it’s not giving up, we have to destroy it.” TK finally stated, making everyone to turn sharply at his direction, and earning a vocal objection from Miyako.

“We can’t do that before we know for sure.” Hikari opposed, the same uncertainty shining in everyone’s eyes.

However, before their argument could come to a decision, Stingmon managed to hit Gigadramon on the tail with enough force to make this snarl a cry out of pain.

This seemed to have an effect and after a couple of more attacks, Gigadramon —finally— took their advice and left, but not before stopping for a visible moment, as if uncharacteristically contemplating the situation.

“Do you think it was just another wandering Digimon”, Iori asked.

“I wonder what’s getting them restless like that”, Hikari pondered, rejoining the conversation.

“It might be Arukenimon’s doing”, Daisuke answered, moving to pick-up demi-veemon.

Ken was silent, looking at the direction where the Gigadramon had disappeared, feeling the lingering guilt for building the towers in the first place.

“Ken?” Wormmon said trying to get him back to earth.

The action succeeded as Ken turned his gaze to the others who were still chatting about the incident, seemingly, and from his opinion hopefully, unaware of his personal discomfort.

The Destined decided to call it for the day and head back to home. However, when they were turning to leave to the nearest tv-set Tailmon froze for a moment and turned to look back. This went largely unnoticed by the others except for Patamon who noticed Tailmon’s action and tried to look at the same direction thus shifting his position in TK’s arms.

“Hmmh?” TK questioned trying himself as well to get a hint of what they were looking at.

“Tailmon?” Hikari asked as all the other’s stopped too.

“I think someone is keeping an eye on us.” She finally answered with her normal no-nonsense tone.

“Keeping an eye…?” TK repeated.

None of the Digimon or the kids, however, could see anything but apartments and high-rises with hundreds of windows. In the end, they had no other option but to give up on their search, and since no-one was attacking them, they continued their way back to the Human World.

Had they been more observant or had their target less expert in hiding for his life, they might have been able to spot Takeru some distance away, leaning on a window frame in his hunter green jacket and watching the group’s distancing backs.

He had kept an eye on the group in his need for information. However, at the same time, he was very much aware that he wasn’t the only observer around.

During the last few days, Takeru had found himself a room from a large hotel chain where he could blend in as if he never existed in the first place. On top of that, he had somewhat an adequate picture of how things were progressing in the Human and the Digital World, but much was still uncertain.

It was striking to look at his younger self, all the younger and the older Digidestined. In the back of his mind, it generated a feeling that he had almost forgotten about, making the present he was in feel alien. Moreover, his thoughts were circulating a deep pit of agitation over other people and beings destroying the peace and order of the worlds.

It was his personal Groundhog Day, witnessing the attempted destruction of everything.

And it was getting tiresome.

Angemon was still nowhere around, and his hand was pulsing with pain with every heartbeat, restlessness making his body stressed and fraught.

He knew it was for the best to keep a low-profile, before he could be certain on what they were against with — and as their opponents might not yet know of their presence.

At the same, it was a characteristically decided evasion of a direct confrontation with the Digidestined.

He had learned to know everyone so well over the years that he could easily guess how the group was discussing the issues surrounding last weeks’ incidents and the Digital World.

Koushirou must already know about the distortions in the Digital World and the ones surrounding his appearance to the Human World. With the hint from his mother, they might have managed to add the two plus two. The group would also be worried over Arukenimon and Mummymon, sizing their opponents, while simultaneously being under the threat of a dispute over killing enemy Digimons. The older Destined would think over coming to help, but the situation would be postponed again and again; Koushirou resulting in asking help from Gennai as a solution. Until that, it was the epitome of predictable.

However, whether Gennai would help them, or even be at reach, was an unknown factor.

Takeru had already seen Himekawa and few other personnel near the school, near his childhood’s apartment block, just being there, keeping an eye.

It made him sick. An immediate flee-reaction overpowering his senses, prodding cold-sweat on his skin, and eventually closing his shaking hand around the jar of analgesics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in the Digital World, there most certainly is an Etemon painting. There just has to be. That's my two cents in this.
> 
> Thoughts, comments, criticism? (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dislaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

”Is it going to be an issue?”

TK raised his eyes from his homework, plastering a nonaligned expression on his face. “So you never fought about anything with Taichi or the others?”

His counterquestion had the desired effect as Yamato went silent, focusing overly intently on the omelet he was flipping in their mother’s apartment.

The older of the two brothers turned to finally look at TK over his shoulder with a reserved expression as if gauging his little brother over the truth of his words. However, Yamato had never been the one to open rifts between him and TK.

“We’ll assess the situation when it comes. We’ve managed quite well so far.” TK offered, accepting the steaming plate from Yamato with a wide smile that shone also in his eyes.

“If they aren’t going to be willing to fight at all, it's going to be an issue.” Yamato said behind his own pile of food.

At this point, TK didn’t want to argue anymore about the subject, knowing that his older brother was right. TK’s eyes lingered on Patamon who was eating at the same speed as Yamato. Something in his gaze and the pause in the conversation made the small Digimon raise its gaze to respond to his. In moments like this, TK wasn’t sure whether Patamon didn’t genuinely listen or whether the small Digimon was just pretending to ignore the discussion at hand to keep him happy.

“They’ll have to fight if it comes down to that, you’ll all end up dead if they don’t.” Yamato surmised coolly, his eyes following TK’s gaze all too well.

“We can’t make them fight if they don’t think it’s right.” TK responded objectively, pushing a piece of omelet around with his fork.

The rest of the meal went by with talks about the band, school and their father’s long hours at work. However, once TK was doing the dishes and Yamato was packing up his stuff, their conversation was broken by a beep from the D-terminal.

“Ken can’t make it tomorrow.” TK reported when he reached the terminal, already typing a reply for the others. “I guess he got ill.”

“What do you think about working alongside with him?” Yamato asked, from the entrance alcove.

“He seems okay. It… takes some time to get used to the dynamics, but he seems… nice. People can change.” The younger boy concluded, his eyes still skimming over the exchanged messages.

Yamato’s eyes stayed on the D-terminal as well, his mind trying to bring something to his awareness.

“Koushirou had achieved to contact Gennai.”

Already from his brother’s tone, TK could get the implication that matched his own intuition over an upcoming trouble. “When?”

“Today, after school. He had wanted to warn us as usual ‘we shouldn’t take things as they seem’ or something around that.” Yamato reiterated with an indifferent frown. “Someone had hacked the school’s computer.”

“What? School computer, really?”

“Apparently.” Yamato replied, assessing TK, and Patamon who was sleeping on the sofa, for one last time before closing the front door behind him with a click.

 

* * *

 

The Digital World felt fresh and dry compared to the Guard Levels. After half a week in drizzle and high-winds and many more months to actually have a minute to appreciate the Digital World, Angemon was relieved. The cuts and dirt could be healed and washed away and they worked merely as a hindrance rather than a full obstacle.

It took no more than an hour for him to find the right spot to create the gate to the Human World.

The Human World was even darker than the Dark Ocean, the sky was black and starless due to the light pollution from Tokyo’s neon signs. The beach of Odaiba was deserted and only a few cars could be heard in the distance.

_Well_ , save for a one being.

Angemon could sense Takeru, sheltering under the bridge a small distance away.

It was also the biggest relief he had felt for a long while. And the out of sight crinkle around his eyes felt like an old friend whom with he had lost touch with by an accident.

They didn’t even have the time to exchange greetings or looks before he had enveloped Takeru in his arms and wings, safe from the world at least for a second. The happiness he felt from seeing his partner hadn’t diminished an ounce from his youth. Not even if his demeanor had otherwise changed greatly.

It was no surprise to feel Takeru drawing strength just from being able to see and touch him.

That being said, Angemon could easily read the underlying shaking from the cold and the lack of sleep.

At the very moment, Takeru would be able to function by the simple adrenaline and relief from seeing him. However, all too fast, that adrenaline would dry out and take with it the stress and survival instinct that had kept Takeru going for the past days. 

As on cue, Takeru’s step away from his embrace came as unsteady and seemed to require conscious effort.

“Where do you stay?”

“About a kilometer away. I can make it that far.” Takeru immediately reassured, despite not being overly sure of it himself.

He would make it.

Angemon was with him.

 

* * *

 

Angemon felt a very well suppressed revulsion as he watched the dark blood wash away to the drain of the bathtub.

Takeru was sitting on the floor with back against the edge of the tub, left hand in the tub under the gentle spray of water.

Angemon’s guess had been very correct, and after a strong analgesic, Takeru was out of focus, the fatigue claiming his senses.

Angemon re-packaged Takeru’s hand with practiced ease and helped Takeru on the bed with wobbly steps. Takeru’s facial expression was outwardly numb, with eyes half-way closed and fluttering slowly. However, the small momentary crease of brows and tightening of the mouth told the angel Digimon clearly how the analgesic hadn’t managed to override all pain messages.

The energy-rich protein bars and a thermos of tea that Takeru had set aside in the room tasted comforting.

“G’night.” Takeru mumbled almost inaudibly from the other side of the bed.

“Night.” Angemon replied, despite knowing that Takeru wouldn’t hear his response. The human’s sleepy form brought him a sense of unhappy relief. He quickly ate the rest of the protein bar that didn’t taste that good anymore.

 

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?”

Takeru blinked, grogginess evident on his face.

Angemon put down the tablet he had been going through for the past twenty minutes, focusing fully on the worn-out human.

“Nauseous.”                                                                                

“Low blood sugar?”

“Yeah.” Takeru surmised in response and tried to roll over to a sitting position with the help of his right arm.  The movement came out sloppy, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus on the small characteristic frown on Angemon’s face.

Angemon dug the bags to find Takeru some energy gel. “You ended up straight here?”

Takeru made an agreeing sound, eyes asking the counter question.

However, Angemon didn’t respond for a moment, surveying his partner’s movements and coherence.

If for Angemon the silence for characteristic, it had become more than same for Takeru. Many years ago Takeru might have answered with full sentences and polite language; these days a hum, a grunt or a humph —sometimes even a distinctive exhale or inhale — were adequate and fully transmittable conversation pieces. 

“The distortions are shaking the Guard Levels. And they know we are here.” Angemon finally replied, his expression staying in a thin line, eyes on Takeru. “You should try to eat something before going back to sleep.”

It was clear that an avalanche of swear words was held back and swiped under the bed with the answer to Angemon’s words. “They are keeping an eye on the kids.” Takeru offered his own ugly truth and tottered to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get your arm in better shape.” Angemon apologized upon Takeru’s return to the room. An apology that Takeru immediately shook off.

“I should go to check the distortions and the neighboring worlds tomorrow.”

Once again, Takeru refused to even consider the repentant thought behind the angel-type Digimon’s words, returning back to old habits of comic dismissal. “Meaning I get to watch after the kids.” He was not too thrilled about the treadmill. He knew that the growing distortions in and between the worlds would put a strain on his and Angemon’s connection and therefore increase his health problems.

_Not to mention his overall discomfort of being apart from Angemon._

“Do you think we can still stop this all?”

Angemon didn’t want to make a bun with the sentence “I Hope” and instead nodded steadily, even though the slight closure of his fingers told that his confidence on the situation might not have been as strong as he would have liked. “We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

_“What does it mean to be a good person?”_

_There are questions that are just thrown into the air, the general questions where the answer is supposed to be obvious. However, sometimes, those questions trigger something profound, a line of thought or a feeling that goes much deeper than the intended universal answer._

_“Mr. Takaishi?”_

_“Sorry?”_

_“I… Your book is quite… strongly moralized if you compare it with the other recently published books. Of course, some of that must result from the biographical nature of your work, but in general, you portray a clear distinction between right and wrong — good and evil. I’m sure our readers are interested to hear your opinion on what categorizes a good person  -- or a good Digimon.”_

_The interviewer delivered the words with a polite, professional and care-free attitude that for some reason failed to make Takeru mirror the attitude that was supposed to be more than characteristic for himself as well._

_Starting with a good-natured, easy joke didn’t feel quite right, and Takeru had to dry cough the frozen answer out of his throat._

_He could feel how the interviewer’s expectant gaze was starting to change into a slightly puzzled face. Furthermore, the clear start of an apology over un-professionalism, over an inappropriate question, was just waiting to be voiced._

_He couldn’t let the question go unanswered. Who leaves a question like that to go unanswered?_

_Despite it, he couldn’t let the question just slide with a generic answer._

_“A good person is…” The moment he reminisced to have been a good person was when he had supported the stance to leave File Island._

_To go after ideals?_

_Ideals kill._

_Friendship? Helping others?_

_Takeru couldn’t escape the uncomfortableness those words gave him amidst the precarious relationships he had with the other Chosen._

_Sacrificing yourself for others?_

_That answer made his thought processes halt even more than they already were._

_In the end, he had stretched answer for so long that his survival instincts kicked in, paving way for overly social, overly graceful reply. “Sorry. I think a good person is someone who cares. Who stands up for others and tried to do good things. In a simple response.” Takeru heard himself answering, but it was an out of body experience, relying solely on his memories of Angemon. For himself… it didn’t feel that fitting really. His stance seemed to transmit over to the interviewer who soon thanked him for the interview without any more questions._

The memory had replayed often in his mind over the past moths — closer to a year from his point of view. It was once again leaving the trace of doubt in his mind as he pretended to eat the instant-ramen in the convenience store. In truth, he was keeping an eye on the side street that led to his younger self’s apartment building.

While Angemon was dealing with the worlds, Takeru had stayed in the Human World. He had spent his time doing research. Namely, this meant looking up information about possible disturbances in the Human World and trying to search the source of the problems.

As well as keeping an eye on the kids.

It had been six days since Angemon’s appearance and they had seen each other only briefly four days ago. Overall, his mood wasn’t good, and the lack of sleep and nearly constant ache left him irritated and made it difficult to keep his focus on anything for more than a moment.

He took a sip of the teacup next to him while keeping himself from rubbing his left hand.

Finally, his patient lurking was once again rewarded as he spotted the distinguishing set of orange and green in the corner intersection.

He didn’t really have a clear plan on why he was following his younger self or what he would do if and when he would be found out. They had agreed with Angemon on the fact that the outcome would be likely, but until that, they would retain from affecting the timeline.

Not for the first time in his life, fate seemed to decide the course of action for him.

Or, others did.

Himekawa could have easily passed as any ordinary person walking from office to home. She had a long stride. Not long enough to draw attention but with enough power to be extremely fast in her movements. The dark jacket and the shin length cut embossed the stamp of professionalism in her. The distancing coldness and the neutral mask finishing her look even from afar.

Takeru scrunched the plastic mug and threw it in the trash bin with the leftover ramen in one forceful motion. He knew that to anyone watching, he had to look like a complete maniac with his sudden mood change. He had to take hold of the table’s edge for physical stability. It was only when Himekawa had disappeared around the corner when he bolted outside with overly conscious steps. It felt like one of those action-packed horror movies when you need to be quick and determined to get out, but you know that any wrong movement or sound will kill you.

 

* * *

 

TK was walking home from a basketball practice with Patamon on his rightful spot on top of his head. His thoughts had been lingering on the Digital World for far too often during the last few weeks and today was no exception. Not even the next week's rehearsal match had managed to occupy his attention.

Moreover, he had stopped to stare at the sea on his way home.

“Everything alright TK?” Patamon questioned.

“Just thinking.” TK replied deep in thought.

“You have been doing that awfully lot lately, you weren’t this thoughtful when you were little.” Came Patamon’s reply somewhere above his head. TK would have given Patamon a fake unamused look on the small Digimon’s jest but he knew it would go unspotted from his position.

“Maybe…” TK started but left the sentence unfinished when his thoughts once again revolved back to the Digital World and his naivety three years back.

The incidents with Digimon Kaiser and Arukenimon and Mummymon had stirred something inside him. Something that he had a very hard time to press back down. Sometimes he wondered how Patamon was so okay with everything.

“Has Hikari spoken to you about the sea?” Patamon asked suddenly breaking TK from his thoughts.

“What? No.” TK answered quickly prompting his partner to continue. He wanted to see his partner’s face and almost turned his gaze upwards before he could sense Patamon starting to slide thanks to his head-movement.

“Tailmon mentioned that Hikari has sensed the Dark Ocean again. You can’t feel it?” Patamon asked carefully, remembering their conversation above the vortex.

“Not really. Can you?”

“Not so strongly here or in this form, but in the Digital World, yes. Tailmon said the same thing.”

“Takeru Takaishi.”

TK turned, surprised at the call of his name. A woman in her mid-thirties with brown hair caught up with them. He hadn’t seen her before and she definitely didn’t seem like the person who would end up by accident to the wrong place or talking to the wrong person — everything but.

“Sorry?”

But the woman never responded to him. Instead, she had the look that woke in him the memory of the Digimon Kaiser, of Piedmon; an almost neutral look, but with the slightest raised brow and the hint of a smile that told of supremacy and knowledge.

“I just came to say hi. - And that many people are very interested in you.” The woman replied after a pregnant pause, shifting her gaze from TK to Patamon, clearly recognizing the latter as a Digimon. Without adding anything else, she bid them a final smile before leaving to the same direction she had come from.

 “She was weird.” Patamon commented slowly.

 

* * *

 

“I thought what was left of you died.”

Maki had purposefully managed to side-step around the corner and Takeru hiding behind it. “You and I both.”

It wasn't a happy reunion, but to anyone watching, it would have been clear that Himekawa was more at home, more pleased, about the encounter than Takeru.

“What did you talk to him about?” Takeru asked cutting straight to the topic, the tone of his voice devoid of any emotion.

Himekawa tilted her head in mock confusion — an action performed just to annoy him. “Nothing. Just to set things in motion.” She retorted explanatorily and seemingly decided that the conversation was over as she turned to leave.

“Go to Hell.”

Himekawa turned half-way to look at him with a small grin at his belligerent remark, “ _You and I both_.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait, RL got in the way. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

_“How did it go?”_

_Angemon turned to look behind him blindly, hearing Takeru cross the open living room and go straight to the bedroom. Without any immediate answer, he resolved back to pealing the onions._

_“Not too well.” Takeru admitted after a mediocre sigh, emptying his bag of groceries on the countertop. “They had some interest in the draft, but said they couldn’t publish from anyone without any educational degree.”_

_There was a silence that told how much this actually affected Takeru._

_Angemon didn’t answer anything, it wasn’t his forte, not with things he didn’t really have an answer to. Instead, he opted to be present and just listen to Takeru with a sympathetic face._

_It had been a calm 13 months and Takeru was now starting to try and find a path in life. In practice, things were far from easy and the forced drop out of high school weighed down Takeru’s societal position immensely. Partially as a solution, Takeru had resorted to writing, but now, even publishing was proving out to be more than difficult._

_“I should attend to evening classes.” Takeru finally commented with a murmur after placing the bag of flour in the lower cabinet._

_Angemon wasn’t surprised at how tentatively Takeru was portraying the option. To achieve the goal in publishing his book and getting a degree, Takeru would most likely have to move back to the Human World. However, like writing, the path would be difficult. Takeru didn’t have the money for his own place, and after so many years of living with his own problems and anxiety, Takeru had been uncharacteristically open about his reservation against moving in with either of his parents. Yamato was back in the country but his new life with Sora made Takeru unwilling to put in._

_Takeru was starting to do much better with his addictions. He used much fewer painkillers and analgesics — Takeru also slept quite well if Angemon was around — but anti-anxiety medication had been proven out to be most difficult to cut down. Still, Takeru would be much more adept to move back than a year ago._

_Despite the development, Angemon noticed himself being uncharacteristically worried on Takeru’s behalf. In some sense, he usually thought of Takeru to be able to handle almost anything. But maybe the past years had changed him more than he had realized with his mind constantly on Takeru and the danger around them._

_Or maybe, he didn’t want to part ways with Takeru._

_Under the surface, he knew that Takeru would be making a mistake. That the aloofness bubbling under Takeru’s skin would after all the stress come to the surface in the form of reckless behavior._

_—If Takeru could ever be called reckless to the true meaning of the word.—_

_Nonetheless, he had seen the course of actions before, when annoyed or overly confident Takeru could say things he otherwise wouldn’t have said, act in a much bolder manner, and cause harm he would never otherwise have been willing to cause. And after all those moments, Takeru usually had an action-hangover when the mood subsided._

_He just didn’t know what to do. On the other hand, it would be good for Takeru to live, try new things and be out there socializing with other humans. On the other hand, Angemon had a sneaking suspicion if it would all become a huge escape project from facing the life and consequences of the past years. A complete denial to face one’s own feelings._

_And whether that venture would eventually blow-up on Takeru’s face._

 

* * *

 

It was an early morning when TK woke up. He knew that Patamon would take a lot longer to wake up and crawl from under the blanket so he left to shower and get himself ready for the school day. His mother had already left to work an hour earlier. He had gotten partially used to it by now — to have the apartment for himself in the morning. The older he had gotten, the more pronounced the phenomenon had become during evenings as well.

Against general expectations, for TK, the emptiness of the apartment didn’t make him louder or less cautious in his actions. His own discreetness wasn’t even because of Patamon, because the small Digimon could sleep through small earthquakes as proven out a few months back.

The silence made him more aware of his own actions and any loud noises seemed to bounce from the walls with shattering strength.

After placing two bowls carefully on the table, TK poured the breakfast cereal — one of the food habits he had learned from his mother’s side of the family and went to pack his bag. It was only after his soft calls when Patamon opened his eyes with a small grimace under the bright sunlight, murmuring sleepily of, “Five more minutes.” TK failed to hold back an amused grin, his wide smile only making Patamon try and dig his head back under the covers and even his reminder of the classes earned a sleepy grunt.

Patamon could be cheerful and energetic at times, but usually, this required 9+ hours of sleep at night. However, it was still less than the 12+ hours of three years back. Not to mention that the small Digimon seemed to sleep at every possible occurrence. TK had never really gotten to ask from the other Chosen, how the rest of the partner Digimons spent their time, because they clearly slept a lot less than Patamon. With his mind still on last month’s incidents with the Digital World and beyond, one more thought entered his mind. The thought of a snoring and unhappy Angemon, refusing to get up from the bed for more than a few hours a day to eat, pulling the covers while the sun was shining through the window. Shaking the mental image away he began to eat breakfast, deciding to drag the small Digimon out of bed if this didn’t show up on breakfast after 10 minutes.

 

* * *

 

The school day itself was uneventful. The biggest event being Daisuke’s vivid explanation during the lunch of the goal he had made at practice on the day before. In his enthusiasm Daisuke had managed to hit his fist to the tray with enough force to splash half of his milk carton on the floor, earning him a scolding from their classroom teacher.

Moreover, it was only after 3.30 pm when they all found their way to the IT-classroom.

TK thought twice on whether to tell the others of his incident with the woman, but decided that it probably wasn’t enough big of a deal to keep it from others. In the end, he dismissed the worried looks on Iori and Hikari’s faces and laughed in congruence with Daisuke’s retort that there were all kinds of weirdos out there.

The surprise came ultimately from another direction when Miyako opened the view to the Digital World.

“What? There are more Black Towers!”

Everyone rushed to look at the screen, their eyes proving Miyako’s exclamation. About 1/8 of the map they had in their use was dotted with black squares, whereas two days ago, the odds had been closer to 1/14.

“That’s impossible. We have been destroying towers like crazy!” Daisuke commented, his dumbfoundedness turning into annoyance.

“We should send a note to Koushirou about this.” Iori commented from the side, his proposition bringing a sense of reason amidst the noise.

“But where did those towers come from?” Hikari asked still eyeing the screen with a worried expression.

“Could Arukenimon and Mummymon have learned to build towers?” TK suggested.

“They are using them.” Iori supported amidst Daisuke’s open cursing over wretched enemies.

“Does Ichijouji know?” TK asked from no-one in particular after a moment of silence.

“I don’t think so. He messaged to have a bad case of flu and fever.” Miyako commented while typing the message to Koushirou. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother him with this at the moment.” She suggested gently, earning a collective nod from everyone else.

After some pondering and discussion, the kids decided to check one newly formed tower and the surrounding area to get light on the situation.

They ended up on the sand dunes, the Black Tower sticking out like an obelisk amidst the rolling scenery. Every once in a while everyone had to try and shield their face from the needle-sharp sand blown around by the winds. In addition, the sand made walking difficult with its slippery surface.

When the kids and the digimons finally reached the tower it looked no different to the dozens of towers they had destroyed over the course of the months. Daisuke even knocked at the surface of the tower to check that it wasn’t just an optical illusion amidst the lurid sunlight.

“It is real.” Daisuke huffed as they all stared up towards the tip of the tower.                 

“So, now we destroy it.” Iori’s young voice concluded.

“We need to find out who built it. It’s no use spending our energy destroying towers that respawn over the night.” Hikari said her voice thoughtful and disenchanted.

“We’ll get Arukenimon and Mummymon tomorrow. Now, let’s destroy this tower — Veemon digivolve!”

However, just when EX-Veemon’s first attack was hitting the tower, a foul sandstorm hit the group, forcing everyone to shield themselves and cough the dust out of their lungs in fitful gasps.

Not even a second later they were face to face with a gold and silver colored Tuwarmon.

Tuwarmon began to protect the tower relentlessly forcing everyone else to digivolve against their earlier wishes of preserving energy to other towers.

It was difficult to manage hits to the Black Tower and all the kids had to escape the scene for cover from the blade-sharp attacks of Tuwarmon’s Mantis Dance.

“It’s not giving up.” Hikari’s stressed yell carried over Daisuke’s swears.

Even all the partner digimons were getting worried. They knew that the battle would have to end quickly since the attacks threw dust into the air in massive spheres making it almost impossible to keep an eye on the kids and prevent anyone from getting hurt.

“It doesn’t have a control sphere so it’s most likely a Black Tower Digimon; we need to destroy it to get our hands on the tower.” TK commented, an order not far away from his tone.

However, before anyone managed a hit more, one of Tuwarmon’s blades lashed on Ankylomon’s left front foot, forcing Ankylomon to devolve from the pain of the contact.

By sheer reflex, Daisuke managed to stop Iori from running into the swirl of dust by grabbing the younger boy forcefully by the arm.

“Angemon!” TK shouted at his partner, reaching the limit when things were going too far.

Nevertheless, Angemon was not adept with the close to zero visibility and it took few hits from Nefertimon and Aquilamon for him to get a clear hit with the Hand of Fate, directing a great amount of energy into the shot.

The shot hit Tuwarmon on the right shoulder.

However, instead of revealing monochromic black surface, the Tuwarmon just blew to pieces of Data.

The sand and dust settled back into the dunes little by little, but as the view cleared TK had enough time to share a look with Angemon before this devolved back to Patamon to know that at least someone else had noticed that their enemy had been a living Digimon, not just a clone from a Black Tower. TK glanced hastily at the others to see if anyone else had noticed what the two of them had, but at least on the surface no-one made a comment, everyone focusing on their own partners and subsequently on the injured Upamon.                                                                                                             

 

* * *

 

After a tired way back to the portal, Koushirou was waiting for them in the IT-class. He had made a swift change in his timetable to make it before curfew — and to be honest, his appearance stressed the rushed decision with his ruffled hair and crooked necktie. However, he had his trusty laptop with him, making it obvious that he had been working hard before their arrival.

“Are you okay?” Koushirou immediately asked from the group, noticing the disheveled look the blowing sands had left on everyone.

“Upamon got hit.” Iori stated swiftly, raising the round Digimon in his arms to inspect for injuries. However, luckily Upamon had only a minor wound on him and stated to be more exhausted than actually hurt.

“Did you find anything on the towers?” Daisuke asked the older teen, switching the topic to the other urgent matter.

“Nothing definitive. The new towers seem identical to the old ones. But who has built them, we don’t know.” Koushirou mused. “However, Piyomon sent a message that one of the Lalamons in her area had claimed to have seen the Digimon Kaiser.” Koushirou voiced the last sentence very carefully, not wanting to reach an unwanted conclusion.

“What Ichijouji? He's at home, ill.” Daisuke and TK commented almost in unison.

“We don’t know if the sighting is correct. But it is unanimous with the appearance of the towers.” Koushirou pondered with a gloomy undertone in his voice.

Everyone mulled over the new piece of information, no-one saying anything for a few seconds.

“But the Tuwarmon guarding the tower didn’t have a control sphere.” Chibimon’s bright voice commented from the nearby table.

“That’s true. But there wasn’t Arukenimon or Mummymon either.” Hikari accompanied.

“It could still be a Black Tower Digimon.” Koushirou offered, only to cause a flickering sense of guilt in TK.

“It wasn’t. –It was a Digimon.” TK finally confessed quietly, ending up to explain briefly what he had seen.

“What? And you still killed it?” Daisuke voiced with the same expression that was more than clearly portrayed on Miyako’s face.

Rather than issuing an apology, this caused TK to snap back in defense of Patamon, “It was on one hit, it was too late to do anything at that point. – – Digimon or not, he was not going to back down from attacking us for trying to destroy the tower. What else were we supposed to do?”

For everyone’s benefit, Koushirou stepped into the forming argument, issuing peace and making a plan to get to the bottom of the new towers and the possible sighting of Kaiser.

“I’m going to visit Ken tomorrow. We should do it anyway when one of us is ill.” Daisuke stated, his trust not shaken by the rumours. Nevertheless, the others weren’t as convinced. They had seen the change in Ichijouji and his actions had seemed genuine, but they couldn’t still claim to know the black-haired boy well enough to shut out all possibilities.        

         

* * *

 

“Iori, I’m okay.”

TK felt a small smile on his lips over Upamon’s dragged out assurance. Digimons weren’t usually hurt badly even in hefty fights, and in most cases, devolving healed the wounds. Even WarGreymon’s fight against Piedmon hadn’t left Agumon with any noticeable scars aside from some scuffed tissue. Upamon was going to be fine but Iori’s care over his partner warmed TK as he focused to pick up the post from the apartment letterbox.

“We’ll see Jou if it still bothers you tomorrow.” Iori stated, cradling Upamon in his arms.

They had talked about the Black Towers enough on their way home and dropping Miyako to her parent’s store, and neither of the boys felt the desire to continue on the subject. Instead, TK asked Iori about his Kendo-practice on their way to the upper floors before parting ways.

“It’s better for Upamon to be with Iori.”

TK turned to look at Patamon questioningly on his arms. “What you mean by that?”

“Miyako had gotten mad at his brother yesterday and nearly thrown Poromon at him.” Patamon answered with a conspiracy tone. Technically he wasn’t supposed to speak before they were inside the apartment and out of open hallways. “Upamon commented that once during recess Daisuke had nearly kicked him off as a lost football.”

TK looked incredulously at Patamon, “Seriously?” But instead of an answer, he received a tiny conspiracy nod, causing him to grin.

After managing to dig his keys out of his pocket while balancing the post and Patamon on his left arm, TK eased his bag on the entrance and let Patamon fly to the Kitchen in this eagerness to get food after a long day. As usual, his mother was yet to arrive at home.                

The young teen first helped Patamon some snacks and fruits before carrying his bag to his room and skipping over the post.

Amidst all the letters and magazines his attention was taken by a thick white paper, folded in half. At first, he thought it to be a message from one of the neighbors, but after opening, it was clear that it wasn’t.

_“Hope leads to the death of everything one holds dear.”_

TK stared at the note, his senses automatically honing to detect Patamon on the dining table and talking something his brains didn’t catch.

The feeling from the past few weeks came back full force as he stood mechanically staring at the message. It took a few seconds for his mind to feverishly seek the true note behind the message and finally his mind resorted to the woman and the creditability of Ichijouji. A part of his mind declined the new conclusion, but the logical part of his brain – not to mention the emotional need to place the threat on something tangible – won over.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long wait. The next chapter is already half-written, and 2/3 outlined, so it should be up much faster. This time, we will travel a bit with Miyako and Daisuke for a change. In the next chapter, it’s back to business and it will revolve much more closely around Takeru. 
> 
> \- If anyone is wondering, Momoe is canonically Miyako’s oldest sister.
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

On the next morning, Daisuke was waiting for Miyako in front of her parents’ shop. They had agreed to visit Ichijouji after school, despite his lack of an answer to the suggestion. Aside from Chibimon on Daisuke’s arm, it would be only the two of them. Iori had a Kendo-practice, TK had spoken something of basketball, and Hikari had already promised to meet her friends.

_Much to Daisuke’s dismay._

However, under the well-wishes and apologies, it was clear that all the other younger Chosen felt conflicted to meet with Ichijouji.

_Much more to Daisuke’s dismay._

He kicked pebbles on the sidewalk as a way of waiting.

“I’m off now, bye!” Miyako shouted behind her and nearly ran into him, before handing him a plastic bag, and began to zip her jacket.

“What’s in this?”

“Pickled plums and ginger tea.” Miyako answered, snatching the bag out of Daisuke’s hand before he had the chance to put his nose into it.

“Cold remedies?”

“He's supposed to be ill. So what. Momoe insisted to take them when she heard he was ill.” Miyako snapped, a slight tint of red on her cheeks.

“Sorry for asking. Cheez.”

Their ride out of Odaiba was spent largely in silence without any bickering. The bag in Miyako’s lap wasn’t heavy, but it set an odd feeling of nervousness in her.

It took some navigation to find the right place and the whole area had a distinctive vibe to it, feeling a lot different from Odaiba.

“What if he is not at home?” Miyako asked her voice apprehensive.

“It would be announced in the news if he’d gone missing. Plus, I don’t think he would have bothered answering to us on being sick if he was working back as the Digital Kaiser. He’s not like that anymore.” Daisuke said, his point-blank attitude reminding Miyako strongly of both Taichi and Yamato.

“Okay.” She finally replied, shifting her weight to the other foot, before finally following him to the front door.

They only had to ring the bell once before Ken’s mother opened the door, slight surprise over their unexpected arrival.

Daisuke and Miyako just stood on the doorway for a moment, not having really planned this out; finally Miyako hit Daisuke with her elbow, both plastering wide amiable smiles on their faces.

“Hi, we were just wondering if Ken’s at home.” Daisuke asked, putting on his best performance.

“I’m sorry, but Ken is still it at school.” Mrs. Ichijouji answered, shocking the kids.

“He’s not at home? We thought he’d be…”

“No, but he should be at home around half-an-hour, you want to come and wait inside?”

It was clear how extremely delighted Ken’s mother was to have them there, forcing Miyako and Daisuke to made strangled made-up utterings on why they wouldn’t be able to spend the evening at Ichijoujis and possibly having to explain _why they were there_. However, thanks to their nonexistent planning, they couldn’t figure out an excuse in time and on some shared note, relented to pay a visit.

It was agonizingly awkward. Both of Ken’s parents sat opposite to them in the living room, serving tea and biscuits. Miyako tried her best to hide the plastic bag from the shop between her and the sofa’s armrest; she was not going to worry Ken’s parents, remembering very well the sorrow they had had to go through with Ken’s disappearance.

Chibimon was trying his best maintain his stance in Daisuke’s lap but the biscuits and the tea were seducing his always empty stomach.

“Is that a – Digimon?”

Mrs. Ichijouji’s surprised question stopped Chibimon’s wandering eyes the second, leaving the kids to decide on what to answer.

“Eh. Yeah, this is Chibimon.” Daisuke introduced, holding Chibimon out to greet the adults.

“You are one of those kids. Who visit the Digital World Ken talked about?”

Miyako and Daisuke couldn’t reply anything else than to agree with Mr. Ichijouji’s observation.

“Ken wasn’t saying much about others. Have you been having a …partner ‑‑Digimon for long?”

With Ken’s mother’s question, it was clear that if the parent’s had been thrilled to have kids of the same age asking for Ken, they were as curious to meet other Digimons.

“No, no, not that long. Only for about half-a-year, but there are older children in our group who have had Digimon partners for many years now.” Miyako answered rapidly, her arms swinging rapidly in front of her in hasty disagreement.

Before Ken’s parents had a chance to ask any more questions, Daisuke butted in, “Is Minamon here, Ken’s Digimon partner?”

“Oh, no. Ken sometimes takes him with him at school.”

The small talk went on for quite some time, and Miyako and Daisuke were starting to be even more out of words. Chibimon, on the other hand, was happy; Ken’s mother had given him his own plate of cookies which he was munching contentedly.

“I’m sorry; Ken seems to be late today.”

It clear that both of Ken’s parents were getting worried, and even slightly apologetic to keep the newly found friends of their son waiting.

“It’s okay. I’m sure Ken will be arriving home soon, and we can meet him another time.” Daisuke offered, his heart behind his words.

Ultimately Ken’s parent’s couldn’t do anything else than let them leave out of courtesy. However, they were openly thankful to them for dropping by, and as the apartment door closed behind them, Miyako and Daisuke didn’t have any other choice but to pretend overly normal before reaching the elevator and letting out deep sighs.

“So, what do we do next?” Miyako asked in the elevator, looking at Daisuke’s straight posture.

“We’ll try to find him, of course.” Daisuke answered, his own gaze following the descending floor numbers above the doors.

They walked in silence towards the subway station, deciding to inform the others only after arriving at home.

However, after a couple of blocks, they could spot Ken near the subway station. He was speaking with a black haired, exceptionally tall man. And as they crept closer and got a better look of Ken’s face, they could see that it wasn’t an amiable conversation. The man seemed arrogantly calm, whereas heat could be detected in Ken’s replies.

In the end, they didn’t manage to creep into the hearing distance before the man saw them, his gaze making Ken look behind him and freeze upon noticing them. The man observed them for a minute before smirking and bidding a goodbye to Ken and leaving the scene.

“Ichijouji!” Daisuke shouted, jogging to meet with the boy, Miyako tailing more slowly behind him.

Ken looked extremely withdrawn, even slightly scared to see them. This was almost to the complete opposite than what Daisuke was aiming for, stopping just in front of the boy a dumbfounded look on his face. “Everything okay buddy? Where have you been?”

Ken turned his face immediately away from him, visibly uncertain on how to reply. Minamon was watching at Ken from his arms, silently prodding the boy to open up in the discussion.

“It's alright.” Ken finally answered. His answer was to the point, and his voice and expression remained reserved and thin.

“Don’t say that, who was the guy?” Daisuke probed.

 

* * *

 

“Then he had a message from us to not wanting him to be part of the group after all.” Miyako explained to the other Chosen.

Everyone looked aghast and worried about the news. It was the second day after Miyako, Daisuke and Chibimon’s confrontation with Ken and Minamon and the kids had gathered to the computer class to discuss the latest turn of events. Koushirou, Taichi, and Sora had come to offer support. Mimi was still in the USA, Joe busy with school and Yamato was running some errands in place of his father who had been working almost around the clock for the past few days.

Miyako and Daisuke had concluded their meetup with Ken, which had not been solved easily. Daisuke had been unwilling to give up and half-forced, half-induced Ken to meet him the next day. Ultimately Ken had relented to confess the messages he had received from everyone, only to be shocked to find out the messages everyone else had received from him.

“That’s a harsh trick.” Sora commented sadly.

“But how is it possible?”

Koushirou contemplated on Iori’s question, having tried to think of an answer already. “I don’t know. The messages appear to have come from the correct sources. The most likely scenario would be that the D-terminals have been hacked, but as Daisuke already commented, neither he nor Ichijouji has any recollection of something like that happening.” Koushioru stated sighing. “There is still the possibility that Ichijouji is making this all up, but I’d doubt it.”

“What about the sighting of the Digital Kaiser?” TK asked.

“We don’t have any new information.” Koushirou replied, stopping his explanation short, as he noticed that Taichi was about to say something, but instead this just shook his head, the thought clearly disappearing from his mind.

“Has there been any new sightings?” Sora asked, earning a shake of the head from Koushirou.

 “Who was Ichijouji talking with?” Taichi eventually asked musingly, getting his thoughts in order.

“No idea. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t say.” Daisuke answered, concern evident in his voice for the first time in the course of the discussion.

“Not a nice man by the looks of it.” Miyako added.

TK shunned himself out of the conversation, his mind going back to the woman and the threat. He had been forced to mention the woman to the older Chosen when the talk had turned to the meeting of Ken, but the note was already hopefully destroyed, existing only as shredded paper fibers somewhere in Tokyo’s sewage water systems as he had flushed it down the toilet unbeknownst by anyone.

“That’s unfortunate.” Taichi mused over Ken’s silence over the matter.

“He was related to the Digital World.” Chibimon’s high-pitched voice interrupted from the floor where the Digimons had gathered around a bag of snacks Miyako had brought with her.

“Really? How you know?” Daisuke asked perplexed, nearly jumping over the closest table to look at the blue-white Digimon.

“He spoke to Minamon.” Chibimon explained, the around of his mouth prickled with left-over rice from the onigiri he had been munching.

“Spoke to Minamon, about what?” Miyako inquired more to herself than directly at Chibimon as the kids and the teens were intently focusing on Chibimon.

“I don’t know. But he talked and Minamon had thrown faces at him.”

It took a few seconds for all the Chosen to understand what Chibimon was saying, before Iori translated the statement, “So, he had been speaking to Ichijouji but recognized Minamon as a Digimon.”

The reveal left everyone even more non-plussed. Nevertheless, Koushirou’s mind was never idle, and soon he was searching for something from the computer, leaving everyone else to take charge of the discussion.

“There’s something…”

Everyone gathered around Koushirou’s computer to watch him type, and a few seconds later, red circles appearing and disappearing on the screen in rapid succession.

“These are distortions in the Odaiba area two and half weeks back. And this is Tamachi the day before yesterday.”

“That’s a lot of activity.” Sora commented a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Could it be the same guy?” Miyako asked.

“Nah, this one had black hair.” Daisuke replied swiftly, remembering their earlier conversation over the blond-haired hospital runaway.

“Ah, true.”

“So, we are dealing with multiple subjects.” Taichi contemplated from his turned-around-seat, lazily hugging the back of the chair.

“Seems like it.” Koushirou agreed, earning a collective precautious nod.

 

* * *

 

 “Do you think Ichijouji is going to be okay?” Hikari asked the violet-haired girl, turning her head to gauge her reaction as they walked towards the computer class.

“Hmm… Why wouldn’t he be? He has hardiness.” Miyako replied airily, the concept of brooding over something being much more alien concept for her than for Hikari — or Ken.

“Staying away from us… it just seems that he took it to his heart, to not be part of us.”

Miyako, in turn, looked at Hikari, blinking with the changed train of thought. “He hasn’t been with us for long anyway.”

There was part of her that was resuming back to having a crush on Ken, but the doubt over Ken’s past still lingered in her mind and the day over yesterday’s incident hadn’t helped her feelings. She had already taken a few more steps before noticing that Hikari was no longer walking next to her; Miyako turned to look behind her and saw Hikari staying on her spot few meters back.

“I don’t trust him fully either, but think of what he must feel like. To have gone through that, to have done something like that….” Hikari murmured, her eyes downcast. “And to think that we would have turned our backs on him… It must be horrible.”

There was so honestly depressed look on Hikari’s eyes that Miyako was at loss on what to say. She could understand the picture Hikari was giving her, but it went against her logic on how to tackle things. As a result, she suddenly felt very awkward by their dissimilarity. She didn’t even manage to utter any Miyako-ish cheers to move over the situation or how it all could be solved, instead, she only managed a short mhm.

When they reached the class, they could see the boys and the Digimons already waiting for them. Truth be told, they weren’t meeting to go to the Digital World. Koushirou had asked them to take a day off, so that he could get a better understanding of the situation and the workings of their D-terminals before any life-risking situations. They had agreed to go for an ice-cream. However, despite Daisuke’s adamant requests, Ken had invoked to his mountain of homework in order to stay out of the gathering. He had promised to come with them to the Digital World, the next time they would be crossing the portal, but unbeknownst to him, the possibility of running to the fake-Kaiser unnerved almost all of the younger Chosen.

They talked through a number of things on their way to the local café: everything from the 4th-grade teachers, to Arukenimon and Mummymon, and Iori’s grandpa’s scale model on 19th-century Japanese office building.

“– – So grandpa brought some bamboo shavings from Kyoto.” Iori concluded, freeing Upamon from the backpack and placing the small Digimon on the table next to the nougat sundae.

 It didn’t take long for everyone to find their seat and beginning to eat, all except Tailmon who kept looking somewhere towards the other corner of the medium-sized cafe, ears twitching in accordance to her attention.

“Tailmon, what is it?”

Tailmon didn’t answer immediately, her attention still on something they couldn’t spot due to the high seats in the booth. “The man in the booth near the window, it’s the fourth time this week when we see him.”

Tailmon’s words were breaking the group little by little from their smaller discussions, making everyone to try and look behind their own booth.

“Who?”

“The man in the dark coat.”

“He visited the Inoue shop on Tuesday.” Hawkmon commented from the back of the table.

“We saw him three times near the school this week.” Patamon added behind his banana sundae, not really caring over the shock on the kids’ features.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” TK asked incredulously, only managing to earn a figurative shrug of shoulders from few of the Digimons.

“What should we do?” Miyako asked.

“I’m sending a message to big brother and Koushirou, hopefully, they’ll get something out of this.” Hikari replied, overriding Daisuke’s suggestion of going to find the man and sorting things out with him.

Eventually, the kids decided to just eat and leave, distrust heavy on their minds. However, it seemed that the man had managed to leave before them, because after finishing their sundaes and exiting the café, they didn’t manage to see him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We are getting closer for everyone to meet up! Not so many events in this ch, but a lot of hints on what is to come ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We are starting to enter a little bit darker territory, so trigger warnings are staring to be applicable. And a friendly note that just because Takeru is now dealing with his issues alone, you don’t have to. Seek for your local mental health professionals if needed. :)
> 
> Diclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

Flashback, Takeru, age 23:

“Stop fucking saying it’s going to be alright!”

The young man’s burst shocked the angel Digimon. He had no idea on how to respond to something like that.

Takeru’s aggression had always an intimidating streak to it, but even though he could take the overall hostility as nothing personal, this time Takeru was resenting the very core of his words — hope.

Angemon had to roll the words few times on his tongue, before uttering them out loud. On some level, he told himself that he imagined the seeping through tone of desperation in his voice. “It’s going to be fine.”

* * *

  _Blood._

* * *

“So what?! I don’t care!” Takeru yelled back. It wasn’t a directed feat of anger, but an incoherent, undirected — unreasoned — feat of pure wrath. Amidst the shallow breaths Takeru’s eyes tried to find a focal point from the room but failed; whether this was out of anger or shame Angemon didn’t know, his own stance becoming protective, more so over Takeru than himself.

“I don’t want it to be okay!” Takeru confessed, his voice losing its power and beginning to crack. The blond-haired man spat a bitter laugh. “It’s the only thing that keeps me going. Why I wake up in the morning. The reason I keep myself to go to sleep at night.” Even in his fit of anger, Takeru couldn’t say out ‘Even if I don’t want to anymore’, but they were both unable to hear the words. “I hate it. –– Hate to wait for something when it only brings more pain.”

* * *

_So much blood._

* * *

Angemon felt as if his heart had been made out of shards of glass, stabbing him with every beat at the sight of his human partner starting to cry, crying like a small child who thinks he has done something so wrong that he is not entitled to have compassion and thus shunning oneself from the world. At the same time, Angemon was even more at loss. Hope was something he believed in. More than that, it was something that defined his existence, was his food and his core. And something that was supposed to help and get Takeru out of this mess, but now, it was becoming something even Takeru was starting to decline from. Like a severely ill person refusing to eat his medicine.

Angemon moved to hug the shuddering young man tightly in his arms. “It is going to be fine, you need to have hope.” The words felt empty but they were the only ones he had to offer. The thinness of their lifeline dawning to him for the first time.

Angemon could hear the strangled voice between a cry and an unamused laugh from his arms. “But I hate it.”

I hate _hope_.

If Yamato in his youth had worried over whether he could portray the crest of friendship, Takeru had thought that he had had to consider whether he had enough hope to save them. However, when required, it had never been an issue. He believed full-heartedly over the chosen crests, as artificial as the choices had proved out to be. Hope was still something he found impossible to turn-off. It was something as natural as a heartbeat upon dire situations. Some might have said that it was his will to survive, to think of a solution out of the hand of death. But what he had learned during the last few years, more closely in the past months, was that hope was something different from the sheer will of survival. Because, even if his will to survive had diminished, his hope was still there, as an annoying voice in the back of his head. Like a mosquito he couldn’t see but one that always made itself heard when the darkness descended. And like a mosquito, it felt like hope was preventing him from getting rest.

Not just his body _, but soul._

The naïve wish that things would be okay was preventing him from getting used to the misery. It kept him from abandoning his dreams and goals, but only let him down every single day when he was being carried farther away from those goals. Most importantly, it forced him to rise up from the ground only to be hit right back to it.

_And he was getting tired of it._

However, like all crests, hope wasn’t something he could just disregard altogether.

He didn’t know how.

All life and death -situations had only taught him how to preserve hope, how to keep it alive in the direst of moments. And like reading, he couldn’t unlearn it, it seemed.

Because wanting to not have hope was a hope itself. 

Angemon had told him about Daemon, about the loss of hope. It was still clear to him that he resented the idea of evil, of wrath. It just seemed that if he wouldn’t accept darkness, he’d die.

That it would be the only way out of hope.

Of finally being able not to care.

Because he was starting to realize that like wrath, hope too, had the potential to destroy everything — including its bearer.

 

* * *

 

Present:

Takeru had been watching the kids until boredom. While Angemon had been dealing with the worlds, Takeru had tried to adapt to his post in the Human World. He had divided his time between keeping an eye on things happening and research; the latter being much more to his liking, even if both options failed to generate any positive feelings in him.

Even though an overly generalized term, research meant looking up information about possible disturbances in the Human World and trying to search the source of problems. Takeru felt pointless for trying to work on the same things he knew for a fact Koushirou was trying to solve — with much larger brains, on top of that. However, he had been extremely uneager to speed things up towards a confrontation he didn’t want to confront.  He had few advantages on his side, namely his speculative information on what was to come, and the software that had been constructed by a person with even larger brains i.e. adult Koushirou.

Takeru had also tried his best to write down the core coding of the Digital World — or what he could remember of it. Angemon had ventured that they would probably need to try and strengthen the walls between the worlds. However, unfortunately, almost all his reference books were at their house, about 15 years to the future.

Takeru gave another mental sigh when trying to remember the coding of the area 34.

A long time ago, he had taken the purposefully distracting side project with Angemon to copy the Digital World’s coding into one collection. The still ongoing project had taken massive amounts of time, but it had also been a great help especially for Koushirou in his research about Digimons and the Digital World. The main reason they had wanted to get everything on paper was strictly because of security. The Digital World was naturally hackable for a great deal, but having something in paper form, opposed to Human World’s computer files, decreased the risks of losing everything for good somewhat. Which was, of course, very ironic, since everything in Digital World was basically data.

Consequently, Takeru was once again questioning the logic behind the unportable paper packs. He took the last sip of the teacup, an empty thermos sitting on the hotel room table.

As a diversion to keep himself from rubbing his sore left hand, he resorted to rolling his shoulders. However, even this action managed to send a strong pain signal through his left arm, making him support himself against the desk with his right hand with a teeth-gritting grunt. Despite the pain, he had a strong feeling that he would need to preserve the medication reserve for the future when it would for sure be needed.

He was trying to stall off for going to sleep and soon his thoughts wandered to the Chosen Children. In addition to his lack of enthusiasm to meet with the past, a large part of him harbored a strong disinterest on the matter.

It was almost a reckless concept.

To think that the past didn’t matter; that it _wouldn’t_ matter.

 

* * *

 

In accordance with his prediction, Takeru hadn’t slept much. His whole body protested in the late-morning, a strong ache in his chest. He pushed past the discomfort and prepared to leave out in the daylight.

He had been worried about Ken. The absence of the black-haired boy on the trips to the Digital World was unusual since Ken had been very diligent to win the others’ trust after leaving the life as the Kaiser behind him. It was one of those qualities Takeru had always respected Ken for.

Not to mention that he had learned to recognize the same aspect in himself.

Takeru squinted his eyes on the bright autumn light to survey his surroundings. He had drifted on and off of sleep for few hours on the park bench at Tamashi — although if asked, he would have steadfastly disagreed over his ability to nod off peacefully.

Acting to be asleep was becoming his best strategy, since reading the same newspaper for hours was even slightly more suspicious. For a few times, the local police had come to ask him if whether he was okay and why he was loitering in the area, but he had been able to solve the situation with a sociable smile and a quick excuse, he hadn’t been able to remember an hour later.

Now, he was waiting for Ken. It took another half-an-hour for the young teen to emerge into his field of vision.

And, he was not alone.

Takeru could feel his jaw locking at the sight of Oikawa walking just slightly past the boy and holding up a one-sided conversation.

Takeru followed the pair with his eyes for the time it took them to take 15 steps, before rising from the bench and striding after them.

He knew that Ken would most likely not be a target of this mess. The Black Seeds had never really worked for the Dark side’s favor and Minamon’s dark-evolutions were nothing they couldn’t manage as a group.

Takeru couldn’t still leave the threat be, because, like the will to suffice for people around him, he could relate to Ken in another matter —anxiety. Whatever Oikawa’s message was, it would not trigger anything good and Takeru could remember very vividly how fearful Ken had later confessed to having been about every aspect of his life when seeking for forgiveness

And personal hell was something he knew very well.

”Shouldn’t you be getting off?”

Oikawa and Ken both turned to look at him, albeit with very different expressions. Ken’s perplexion was countered by Oikawa’s masked smirk. Takeru spared Ken, and Minamon in his arms, only a side-glance keeping his eyes on Oikawa, his own expression cold.

Takeru could have sworn that it took Oikawa at least half-a-minute to reply.

“Sorry, I’m being rude. Ken Ichijouji — Takeru Takaishi, Takeru Takaishi — Ken Ichijouji. Although I’m not sure if I need to say it in both ways. I think you both can catch up quick.” Oikawa leered, waving his hand in an imitation of how to introduce people, his hand remaining meaninglessly in the gesture as he waited for Takeru to rebut his comments.  

Takeru just stared at him.

Eventually, Oikawa dropped his hand, overstressing the disappointed maneuver.

“If you don’t mind Ken and I were going to continue our talks, so…” Oikawa concluded, with Ken looking completely out of the situation, hugging the small Digimon tightly in his arms.

“Leave him the fuck alone.” Takeru countered with a clear command on his tone, the descending sun framing his hair with a red-orange shade.

Oikawa looked at Ken questioningly. However, for all of their surprise — even to his own — Ken faced Oikawa’s gaze with a steely refusal. Even if he didn’t know the other man, he knew he didn’t want to continue his walk with Oikawa on his tale.

Oikawa gave a shoulder-shrugging sneer, nodded his good-byes and spoke something of keeping in touch.

Takeru and Ken were left watching after Oikawa’s distancing back.

The early evening air got almost instantly an awkward touch.

Ultimately, Ken gave an indistinct, silent, bow before heading home, leaving the older man on the spot.

“Ken — Ichijouji — wait up a little!”

Had he felt himself more genial, Takeru was certain he would have wanted to laugh a little for the dark haired teen’s look of complete surprise as this turned around to look at him.

Ken was as shocked as he looked, Minamon opting to survey the situation.

Takeru thought on what to say for a second before offering the boy a small sincere smile. “Could we talk for a little?”

Ken seemed hesitant, not in a clear-cut fashion, but more so as if not being sure on what to think of him or his offer.

Sharing the hesitancy, Takeru offered him a more uncertain look, taking also a longer glance at Minamon. It was another shared trait between them, to meet the other party half-way if uncertain, and to be much more willing to accept propositions when their Digimon partner was included.

They walked in silence to a local convenience store, Ken trailing behind. Takeru settled to buy Ken and Minamon a hot cocoa to fight off the weather.

Takeru couldn’t deny feeling apprehensive or nervous when shifting his gaze between the silent boy and the oncoming dusk outside.

“I’m sorry.” He finally started, “this is not… Things should be better with you and the others if I wasn’t here messing with things. Oikawa wouldn’t be bothering you.” Takeru apologized, his tone somber and his eyes on the unseen horizon.

Ken’s fingers moved nervously around the cup. He didn’t seem to know how to deal with an apology that was not issued by himself.

After a long silence, Takeru realized that Ken wasn’t going to continue the conversation. “Are you alright? Do you mind if I ask you about what they have been telling you?”

As he expected, he wasn’t getting an answer. “Did they accuse you? Warn you?” Takeru inquired calmly.

And this time, as expected, he got the answer he was looking for. Not from Ken, but from the upturning gaze and worry on Minamon’s features.

“Oikawa? Arukenimon?”

The answer was now clearly on Ken’s face as well, forcing Takeru to end the soft questioning and sigh inwardly.

“They can’t come here. ‑‑Arukenimon and Mummymon.” Takeru clarified. “You shouldn’t mind too much on what they say.”

There was an off-handed nod from the young-teen, something that struck Takeru as being faintly out-of-character.

“You are really Takeru?” Ken asked his voice overly neutral.

“Mhm.” Takeru admitted with a slow nod, not fully sure on Ken's question. Maybe it was a logical question when meeting with person from the future — he didn't know.

The flurry of follow-up questions never followed, and maybe that should have attracted his attention more than it did, but at the moment Takeru’s discomfort over being out in the open was dropping the notion from his mind. 

“You don’t need to apologize, I guess they have a right to be mad at me.” Ken finally stated in a very formal manner, surprising Takeru deeply with the change of subject and forcing the man to think on what to answer.

“They don’t, you haven’t done anything wrong after getting your crest. They should trust you more; I should trust you more.” Even with the quickness of his response, there was a genuine compunction weighing on his words.

Despite Minamon’s gaze echoing Takeru’s words, Ken didn’t respond anything.

The background noises from the other customers doing their daily shopping felt loud in Takeru's ears, and he felt forced to continue. “They’ll come to their senses. You shouldn’t take the blame on things that aren’t your fault. Forgive yourself, Ken.”

There wasn’t much else to be said, and the conversation soon dried up as Ken excused himself to go home.

“Ken — Ichijouji —“ Takeru corrected politically, “— could I ask you not to talk to others too much about this. I think we’ll all meet up soon anyway.” Takeru asked slowly, deciding against his better judgment of not putting Ken on the spot of having to decide on his loyalty to the group.

“Sure.”

As Ken walked away with Minamon, Takeru felt his thoughts wander without his allowance towards his quarrels with Taichi a few years back. It had been the time of realizing the possibilities of using the distortions and worlds to travel in time. Or more specifically, the time when Taichi had heard about the method, closer to year after the initial discovery. Taichi had been livid after his initial shock, and it was still a very deep rift in their relationship.

_Takeru watched the older man pacing around the room, Taichi’s whole demeanor shaking with the accumulating objection against his stance._

_“We can’t play gods Taichi. If we change anything, we have no idea what it could cause, we might destroy both worlds.“_

_“It’s Hikari!”_

_“I know, Taichi, I hear what you are saying.” Takeru sighed.  
_

_Taichi’s completely ashen face said otherwise. “She’s my little sister, I can do this to help her. I need to do this to help her!”_

_“We can’t start messing with the past, the risk is too big.” Takeru countered, trying to reason the situation with logic even if Koushirou and Yamato had already warned him that it wouldn’t work. Taichi was, even after all he had learned in the Digital World, a person who was driven by emotion when it came to people he cared about.  
_

_“You are not going to do it?”_

_Takeru shook his head sadly to the posed challenge._

_“Is that your or Angemon’s stance?” Taichi countered, a disbelieving laugh on his features._

_“It’s the same thing.” Takeru replied, keeping his voice in check, and resorting to watching the pacing of the man in front of him. There had been a time when Taichi had almost resembled a big brother to him. The time when Taichi had been the leader of the group and maneuvered them out of who knows what. And there was still the establishment of Taichi being the older one of the two of them and Takeru respected that. But the desperation with which Taichi had been driving his own cause over the past few years, the will that was still fueling his crusade to make things alright in his eyes, had forced Takeru to recognize the differences between them. And now, Taichi was no longer the person in charge, and it was not easy for neither one of them._

_“Hikari is fine now, she has her own life, you don’t even know if she would be ready to change that away.” Takeru commented with a softer stance, knowing fully well that Taichi hadn’t had the courage to confront Hikari over the fact._

_Despite that Taichi looked like he has just run a marathon or two instead of simple pacing, the brown-haired man wasn’t ready to give up, not on this. “What about Ichijouji?”_

_There was a fleeting remorse on Taichi’s eyes over the spike in his words, a thought that maybe, he shouldn’t have said anything despite the need to stab the words out in the air. Because Takeru knew that his own remorse had to be evident on his face._

_“We are not here to play gods Taichi,” Takeru said solemnly, his posture replicating Angemon subconsciously, albeit with great precision._

_“That’s moral bullshit, and you know it.”_

Even after Yamato and Koushirou had sided his argument, Takeru knew that the older Digidestined had never gotten over it, resorting back to his ground with every opportunity; the relationship between the two of them going back and forth with the context. Afterward, Takeru had heard that Yamato had had to drag Taichi home from the bar againg and on more than one occasion.

Now, however, with the memory of Ken and Miyako’s car accident repeating in his head as he watched the young teen’s to walk towards his home, the repulsion of the situation had no chance of escaping him. He had the potential power to stop his friend from dying in ten years time, but the most he did, was to offer atonement of past sins.

_Whose sins exactly?_

As Takeru stumbled out of the counter stool and the store, he had to stop on the way to the hotel with his extreme feeling of revolt. Later, he had no recollection of his journey back to the hotel room, but the guilt still stayed, and not for the first time, he half-hoped to have been able to drink his own guilt momentarily away like Taichi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm busy with work at the moment, so the next chapter is probably not up until next year. Have happy holidays, and as always, comments and thoughts are very much welcomed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait, the next chapter should be up in few weeks.
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

It had already been a few weeks since Ichijouji had accompanied them to the Digital World. The black-haired boy had been awfully quiet on Wednesday’s trip making the younger Chosen took worried glances at each other and Daisuke to try and cheer up the mood with a passion that would have made DemiVeemon jealous.

Right now, they weren’t waiting for Ken who had been punctually on time around the TV-set that functioned as their makeshift meeting place, but Koushirou who had promised to join them once the updates on his laptop were finished.

The atmosphere was slightly awkward and everyone focused on Taichi offering candies to Agumon in the midst of not knowing what to talk about. Ken was standing outside the formed semi-circle, despite the fact that Taichi had been carrying a courteous sympathetic smile on his face. As if a source of comfort, Wormmon was held tightly in Ken’s arms and it was clear that the boy was deep in thought, his eyes flickering to TK for a few times.

“I apologize; Koushirou should be here any minute.” Tentomon buzzed next to the TV and waved his right limb apologetically in the air.

They were going to check another patch of new Dark Towers; this time with Taichi and Koushirou with them. They hoped that Koushirou could spread some light into the situation. On Wednesday they had run to Arukenimon, Mummymon and an angry DarkTyrannomon. However, while surviving the incident almost without any scratches, the arrogant attitude and boasting about the towers had hit them unprepared after the blissful break they had had from the two.

After about ten more minutes, Koushirou appeared from the TV with a bright flash of light, ending upside down on the ground with his just updated laptop hoisted protectively above him.

With Koushirou brushing off Taichi and Iori’s simultaneous question of whether he was alright, in addition to some dust off his clothes, they began their arduous walk in the rocky terrain.  
  
"So, Chief, where are we heading?" Taichi asked, hint of a joke in his voice as he addressed the red-haired teen.

"There." The simple response could have gone amiss from the team if it hadn't been for the Koushirou's right forefinger pointing straight to the biggest hill in the scenery a mile or two away.

"You got to be kidding." Daisuke lamented, making Hikari scold his attitude with a counter-argument.  
  
"Could we fly?" Miyako asked seeing the challenge instead of the obstacle.

"It will be tricky to get carry everyone." Iori answered, causing TK to joke that they couldn't leave Taichi and Koushirou to walk, could they.  
  
With a shared agreement, they decided to spare energy in the light of running to Arukenimon and Mummymon this time around as well, and opt to climb up the hill to the Dark Tower.

An hour later, the sand-colored rocks got smaller and smaller with their journey to the top. For the countless time, their steps slipped in the deeper section of the climb and despite the weather not being overly hot, dribbles of sweat had long ago appeared on everyone’s foreheads. Only the fledged Digimons had had the pleasure to avoid the sharp stones. Moreover, the kids had made considerable effort to speed up the journey by lifting and carrying the child-stage Digimons over the sharpest rises. Daisuke and Veemon arguing about Veemon's eating habits and weight for more than a few times.

Red-faced and gasping for air the group finally reached the top, only to find that the view wasn’t pleasant. The expected tall tower stood from the flat rock bed, but, almost five more could be spotted on the areas around them, and Taichi found additional four with his monocular. This dropped the mood considerably, but the most visible change happened in Ichijouji who became even quieter. The only upside being the seed of determination formed in his eyes to fix things.

Koushirou placed himself on a larger intact boulder, opened his laptop, and focused silently on simulations and diagnostics.

The rest of the kids and Digimons loitered around, having a well-earned snack before Koushirou signaled them that he had collected all the information he could and that they could start destroying the tower.

The armor digivolved Digimons brought the tower down in splintered black shreds in less than a few moments, and in unison, they decided to make the most of their time and destroy the few closest towers in the same visit; the thought of the chance to travel downhill making everyone to release a relieved laugh.

However, to everyone’s frustration, their first peek to the terrains of the hill they were on revealed that they were no longer alone.

Six DarkLizardmons were climbing up the mountain in an effort to surround and trap them to the top with no way out. The brown flames covering their body and white head-pieces were shining with energy in the early afternoon sun.

With the kids trapped on the hilltop, the Digimons had to act quickly: Nefertimon and Pegasusmon attacked with Queen’s Paw and Star Shower, whereas Digmon searched a spot where he could collapse a piece of the hilltop and the Lizardmon on that side with it. The Digimons tried to use their still existing defense advantage with the best of their ability. As long as they could attack inside out from the ring, the kids weren’t in danger of being forced into the crossfire.

Still, the flaming Champion-forms were powerful and Flamedramon and others were starting to be in trouble with the kids being closer and closer to the shot out attacks. Halsemon’s great hit with Mach Impulse brought a brief sense of success as the DarkLizardmon at the target was sent tumbling down the slope leaving only a trail of dust in its wake.

Few near-misses went without problems as everyone had gotten used to dodging miss-fires here and there, but then, almost out of the blue, the DarkLizardmon climbing from the north side managed to dash very close to Taichi.

Less than twelve yards to go, the brown flames around the DarkLizardmon’s body turned black and fired up.

Everyone could only watch in dread as the flames shot out towards the unprotected leader of the group.

“Taichi!”

In the blink of an eye, the huge amber orange form of Greymon jumped in front of Taichi, matching the dark flames with his own.

“Agumon digivolved?” Miyako’s question voicing everyone’s thoughts, and the nostalgic feel of awe was strongly manifested in the minds of the original Chosen when Greymon joined the fight, balancing the situation in their favor. Even Taichi looked surprised by Agumon’s ability to digivolve despite the Dark Towers underlining the scenery around them. The surprise was soon replaced with enthusiastic energy as Taichi joined the battle in spirit.

Overall, they didn’t have the time to stop and contemplate for long and after Tentomon had digivolved to Kabuterimon, the Digimons eventually managed to beat the rest of the DarkLizardmons.

The decision to kill their enemy still managed to evoke objections and mumbles from the younger team. And even TK felt a moment of piercing dubiety, wanting their enemy destroyed but unnaturally worried on what would follow in the future.

 

* * *

 

“Good game, Takaishi.”

TK thanked his teammate likewise, feeling modestly pleased by the praise even if the memory of the two lost balls after the half-time still brought a chastened tint on his cheeks. They had managed to win the practice match with few points, but overall they weren’t a major opponent. Compared, for example, to Daisuke, Taichi and Ichijouji’s teams they were more of a kids’ after-school sports club than a serious basketball team.

To be honest, he had first paid a few not so potential visits to other sports clubs, before ultimately ending up with basketball due to his height. It was still a little bit unfamiliar after changing the team with the switch of school, but his mother had been adamant that sports as a hobby would be essential for his growth, not to mention to fill few hours of the week, instead of staying alone at home.

Replying in passing "No, you go ahead." and placing his gears into his school bag, he knew there was another aspect of being willing to practice. The reflexes and near-misses Taichi had sported in the Digital World three years ago, had left an impression on his young mind, and with having Patamon around, he could guess the decision had not been an unwise one.  
  
Speaking of his partner, Patamon had stayed at home, skipping his practices as usual.

Almost everyone else had left when he finally put on his shoes and stepped outside to the slightly more unfamiliar scenery around one of the elementary schools of Shiodome, his mind still on the events of the past few weeks and Ichijouji’s words.

After their exhausting late afternoon destroying the towers, but still with a surprising amount of time in their hands, Ichijouji had come to the computer class with them, staying behind as the older teens had headed home — slightly perplexed over the in-group the younger team had clearly begun to form but pleased all the same.

Ichijouji’s actions hadn’t surprised only Taichi and Koushirou and as everyone had been trying to think of a way to get Ken to open up on what worried him, the black-haired boy had done so unasked. Clearly nervous and scrambling in his words for a few times, Ken had given a brief summary of meeting with people supposedly from the future, one of whom he claimed to have been TK. Worried over not being believed, or worse yet accused to be lying, and on the other hand, worried over the broken promise to Takeru, Ichijouji had kept his eyes to the ground, fingers quivering out of fear.

Could his future really be here, in the … _past_?

Despite the rare and abnormal events he had seen and lived through thanks to the Digital World, this was a concept he had never thought out to experience. Hoped for, yes. But for a very different reason.

The chance of being able to go back in time and stop Angemon from dying in the battle against Devimon was so strong that even the mere idea spiked his heartbeat and made his hands feel sweaty. He had played with the wish a lot, far after the gate had closed and he had been forced to get back to his normal life, without Patamon.

He had been, in some sense, able to move on due to the sheer impossibility of the solution of turning back time, forcing himself to accept his mistake and vow to never repeat it again.

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he didn’t know the laws of time-travel and therefore, shouldn’t be so disappointed or confused when his future hadn’t appeared in front of them, hadn’t clearly fixed Angemon’s death since he still had the painstakingly vivid memory. But there was an even stronger voice at the front of his mind piecing events and information together, painting an even more confusing and worrying picture. The black-painted, metallic gear he had found from his school bag the day before weighed his mind immensely; and for the first time since Ichijouji had toyed with the vortex, he was scared.

After fifteen or more steps, TK finally realized that it was dark, much darker than it should have been, even with the sun’s quick descend a few hours earlier.

In fact, _he could see barely anything._

With a sharp sound from somewhere to his left, he half-bolted, half-crashed down to the ground. His brains registered the shout of “Dark Explosion” only when he was already on the ground rolling on his stomach to shield his face and chest. There was telling subsequent crashes and bangs as the pieces of the attack hit the buildings and trees around him.

On the upside, the whirl of the attack was so strong that it dissipated the darkness to a more bearable level.

As his pupils adapted, he could see the scarce outline of a black Starmon, perched on top of the climbing bar on the other side of the school playground.

Supported by his arms and his heart hammering in his chest, TK tried to look around and see if anyone else was present and how he could escape. He would need to dash to the other side of the yard and on to the street to get out of the fenced courtyard.

Eyeing his odds, TK took a deep breath before jumping up and shunning everything else out his mind and racing towards the street.

Though, he didn’t’ manage even seven yards before DarkSuperStarmon’s another shout (“Dark Hole”) made him dash to the ground the second time.

The subsequent silence forced his heart to skip a beat and his gaze to rise from the ground to see what he was up against.

Now the black fog had covered enough for him to see the disappearance of the ground some thirty yards back. The monkey bars were sinking into the ground, followed by the slide, and the football goal as the area grew bigger and bigger. TK was forced to stand up, and from the perspective he could see the inky black hole in the ground, eating its surroundings like a gravitational collapse he had once seen in a tv-program they had watched physics class.

The sight made him freeze for a moment. And as he took a tentative and breath-sharpening step back, he could see how the furthermost corner of the sports hall was crumbling to the hole, the earthquake-proof wall collapsing in a matter of seconds.

Just as he was turning around to escape the scene, hoping that by sheer miracle Koushirou had noticed the attack through his computer and alerted the others; because he sure as hell didn’t have the time to stop and request for help.

His own Digivice was trapped in his backpack that fallen in the heat of things, and even if he would decide to reach it, he knew that Patamon was way too far to make it to his rescue.

His mind altered between hyper-panicked speed to enforced slow-motion. On top of that, he just managed to register the DarkSuperStarmon appearing much closer to him, its red gloves detectable in the swallowed darkness.

“Get down!”

Never a person to be told twice, TK jumped to the ground for the third time in under ten minutes. Keeping his focus on the scene, TK could see the adult man running towards them.

The black hole still growing on the other side of the yard, they both managed to sidestep or roll and miss the exploding pieces of a supernova.

Blind to the action for a second or two from while shielding his face, TK could just register the echo of the strong flash of light from the man’s right hand in his retinas; the light connecting to the DarkSuperStarmon and dissolving it to the thin air.

TK was lying partially on his back, partially on his right side, lowering his shielding arm slowly after the destroyed threat. However, the new person was still around, and even if slightly oblivious to him and surveying the now empty field, the adrenaline was still making TK's heart beat faster than usual, generating a sense of warning. Out of primal instinct, the young teen's eyes took a glance around the area. Part of him expected — not wished or feared, at least that was what he later told himself — to see Angemon, any partner Digimon to emerge into his line of vision. However, he did know that they wouldn’t likely use the Digivice as a form of defense if the Digimon partners were around. With the dark air vanishing slowly into the air, he tried to get up but his right leg winced under the weight, and he guessed immediately that he had sprained it.

As if his spiked discomfort had alarmed the man, he turned around, looked at him for a moment, before walking closer. The dark all-sucking hole in the ground had disappeared but the destruction in its wake remained. Few of the jungle gym items on the school grounds had disappeared altogether, some had pits and pieces standing surreally from the sand if originally dug to the ground. Most notable was the half-way malformed corner of the sports hall, the rubble revealing broken bricks, insulation and timber. The electric wires and few pipes had been broken in the collapse and TK could see the small fire licking the court-sided wall.

The blond-haired man moved calmly in the scene, picking up TK’s backpack few yards back, where it had flown from the force of the attack.

No matter Ichijouji’s words, TK could feel the bit in his throat and the difficulty in swallowing, not out of sadness or sorrow, no, but due to his every sense being still in the adrenaline high, and his brains taking note every detail of himself and the immediate situation around him. A survival tactic.

“You need help?”

TK stared at the man, right into the very similar eyes as his own. There might have been a nano-second of familiar recognition but it was gone so fast that his brain never registered it to his long-term memory.

TK felt himself retreating as far as he could from the outstretched hand as he could in his rather vulnerable position. His eyes flickered back to the spot of the disappeared —killed — DarkSuperStarmon. He knew that the power the Digivices contained could be imminent, but something in the event unnerved him. Maybe it, in fact, was the adrenaline, the surprise caused by the attack, his tingling ankle, the dark evening sky and the distressing sound of the approaching emergency vehicles responding to the brightening flames on the other side of the yard. 

The older man read his gaze, carefully maintaining the distance behind his own neutral stance. “Just a party trick.” Takeru remarked, tilting his head the slightest. It was almost as if they had been talking about the weather, but there was a half a pitch of sigh in the words, enough to register somewhere in the young teens wired up brain. “Are you okay?”

TK backed away for a little more and tried to use his hands as leverage to get up. If the past week hadn’t honed his nerves, the years in the Digital World sure had.

Takeru didn’t move closer, knowing that it would do little good and resolved to watch as the teen finally managed to push himself up. Instead, he opted to stand and watch his young counterpart and kept the sound of the sirens as the closing in warning sign.

The amount of rubble and pits in the area would not go unnoticed even in their wildest dreams and Takeru knew that TK would realize that — as well as the fact that he wouldn’t be able to run off on his own with the hurt foot. Standing still and observing was an influence tactic he had learned from Angemon. A knowledge that sometimes a simple look and a higher stance can be more useful than pleads or commands.

“You want to leave or stay here?” Takeru asked, knowing himself well enough to know that he could make the young teen move. It didn’t take long for the teen to nod and accept the offered hand warily.

 

* * *

 

They covered a short train ride, few blocks of familiar streets and smaller paths, before stopping near some apartment complex, not too far from TK’s home.

“What did the woman say to you a few weeks back?” Takeru asked, giving him the ice pack he had stopped by to buy in the corner market.

“Who was she?” TK counterattacked with surprising force from his much lower stance on the wooden bench. It was a fighter’s attitude, the unnaturalness of the situation preventing him from simmering down to neutral mindset.

“The woman?” Takeru asked disinterested, earning a nod from the teen. “Himekawa.”

“You know her?”

Takeru turned to look at TK, unreadable expression on his face as he surveyed the teen. “We have a history. Not a good one. What did she say to you?” Takeru continued, nodding towards the ice-pack that was forgotten mid-air in TK’s hand amidst their exchange of words.

“Nothing.” TK lied coolly at first. However, he could see from Takeru’s eyes that his words went unbelieved. “Something that there are people who are interested in me.” TK finally said quietly through his teeth, pressing the ice-pack against his leg.

“True.” But after a minute’s disinterested pause, “What else?”

TK stared back at the older man, not understanding why he was so easily caught by words and expressions with which he could usually get away with anything; while he could read the man with much less proficiency than usual. After a brief hesitation he dug his D-terminal out of his pocket and opened the message he had received few days prior and for the first time, he could detect the hint of interest in the man’s expression as this scrolled the inbox. TK didn’t know if reading one’s own messages was a violation of privacy, but he could detect that he wasn’t in a position to start a fight, his jaw tight.

“Don’t mind.” Takeru stated, giving the D-terminal back. However, before TK had managed to grab the terminal back the man seemed to change his mind, snatching the terminal once again out of the reach of his futile hand movement.

“They are watching your D-terminals. Everything you send or receive is a fair game.” The man commented. There was a moment of digging into the man's own bag before plugging some flat screen on to the terminal for few minutes and handing the terminal back for real this time. “They’ll still see everything, but I connected it with my computer. If you need help, you can send SOS. “

TK was not relaxed by the man’s words or the fact that he had modified the terminal. He was most worried over the Digimental of Hope but too scared to check if the Digimental could still be found and settled for putting the terminal back to his pocket.

The man seemed impassive to his feelings, watching his ankle with barely there worry.

“You should go home.” Takeru finally replied, as if playing an overworked doctor who was already waiting for the next patient and wished to get the first one out of the room as fast as possible.

“You are the man who appeared to the Human World.” TK said, his reservation masking the surprise and anxiety he felt.

“Touché. I’m also you, but I think you already knew that much.”

There was a faint — supposedly subconscious — shake of the head as the young teen tried to think of what to answer. “You suppose I’d believe it?”

Takeru gave a laugh that was humorless despite the amusement flashing in his eyes, “You think it would matter? Believe it or not. It might be better if you didn’t. -- You shouldn’t believe everything people tell you. But… when we were three Yamato took the blame over the mom's heirloom vase we cracked.”

TK closed his mouth not knowing whose side to be on. Somehow the man in front of him had an aura — energy — that some part of him rejected. When people come face to face with their own shelf from a different time, one would think you would be interested to remember your past or what belies in your future, but now, all those feelings had eluded him for an unknown reason.

“You should head home.” The man, _his supposed future_ , finally repeated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

“I want to see him.”

It took a moment for TK to understand what Angemon was on about. He had sensed that his partner had something on his mind as this had stayed back, letting the others get ahead of them on the early Thursday evening amidst the jungle trees of the Digital World. He was surprised by the comment, even if he had already been confused enough to ask whether something was wrong; Angemon was usually a mon to say things aloud when necessary.  
  
His surprise was further strengthened because, despite the small curiosity after his tale on last Sunday, Patamon had not voiced the same will.

The glow from the setting sun set the world in a vibrant hue, Angemon’s wings manifesting vividly against the background with the shining whiteness.

“Why?” TK heard himself asking, not to put out a challenge, but genuinely troubled.

However, the angel-type Digimon just shrugged his shoulders with a lax smile, clearly having some reservations on what to reply. “If he is really you, I’d know.”

Angemon’s tone had a confused note to it, as if asking why he needed a reason to want to see him. Though, TK wasn’t entirely sure if his interpretation of the tone was correct.

TK’s answer that they didn’t know where his future counterpart was, was swiftly overrun by Angemon’s unyielding, albeit gentle, reminder that he had been given a way to contact the man.

TK swallowed, looking away. Somehow the man had left him with hesitation he couldn’t quite reason out. An intuition that fed him with doubt and a clear feeling that he wasn’t eager — maybe not even willing at all — to introduce his future to Angemon. It wasn’t anything particular per se. Nothing he could have easily pushed aside with logical arguments.

Averse to voicing his concerns, TK dug the D-terminal out of his pocket and typed the message, his fingers more rigid than he was trying to let on.

The handful of seconds he spent to expecting the reply felt profound. Angemon gazed past him to the rest of the group’s backs, but neither of the two spent any clear heed even if the others had managed to get quite far ahead.

Finally, the terminal beeped as the counter-message reached his inbox.

_“Another time.”_

To his relief, Angemon accepted the reply with no further words or inquiries. However, he could sense the underlying disappointment in the angel Digimon’s stance. And as he pushed the terminal back to his pocket, he just hoped that his own relief and discomfort over the matter were harder to spot.

 

* * *

 

Angemon was holding his stance amidst the lush green of the Primary Village. There was a gentle — at times worryingly chill — gust of wind while the sun played hide and seek with the candy cotton clouds on the sky. He had just arrived five minutes or so earlier and was still taking in the place, the holy rod held casually in his right hand. He was waiting to spot Elecmon from the scenery and the quietness of the place was immediately saved to his memory - even if he was standing a little bit further from the central area.

He knew Elecmon.

Knew him very well, whether it came to past, present or future. But at this point, Elecmon didn’t know him very well, and he didn’t want to be rude, knowing that the small Digimon would appreciate keeping his distance from the baby-stage Digimons.

In a similar note, the place harbored a sense of righteousness in him. Taking into consideration all the changes and disturbances he had seen the Digital World go through, the Primary Village was the same. It had a clear, untarnished purpose and function. No glitches, just the origination of new life and new beginnings.

He knew Takeru was able to feel it too. His partner had been looking at the place with childlike enthusiasm on their first encounter. However, he could still feel the self-conscious and humbling proudness that Takeru had even then, seen the place with a second pair of eyes, as a haven for the new Digimons, stopping his fight with Elecmon when being able to see what it did to the beings around them.

A stronger brush of wind swung his hair in one swift motion, letting the ponytail fall gently back to its place a few seconds later.

_“Takeru, we’re supposed to go and check the ruins.”_

_He knew that the human had heard him, even if this didn’t raise his gaze from the baby Digimons amidst which he had kneeled. The air was fresh here, the floor was bouncy — now even more so thanks to his weight in the Champion form — and the colors were as bright as during their first visit._

_With his hand still extended to greet the jumping baby-mons, Takeru turned his head to look at him, expression cheerful even if slightly reminiscing._

_He had opted not to say anything, tilting his own head to the side as a make-shift inquiry. Despite that Takeru’s memory and concentration were far more prone to mistakes than before, he knew that the blond man remembered their plan and wouldn’t have let his earlier call go unnoticed out of spite._

_“Nothing. Just...” Takeru stopped in mid-sentence, eyes losing their focus over the scenery. “Thinking back. This place, it feels the same. Same as back then.”_

_Angemon gave a tiny nod out of understanding and let his own eyes sweep over the area to stir his memory._

_Despite looking outwardly the same, Takeru’s eyes were more downcast, the air of irreversibility descending over the situation. Angemon watched his human partner, placing Takeru’s previous words of not feeling like himself to the familiar scene. Of how something could still feel familiar, even if the self doing the valuation felt so unfamiliar, and by this creating a distance to the place against all the queues. The human looked to be at loss, fighting down the uncomfortableness and Angemon was reminded very strongly of the past, albeit for a different reason._

_To him the world was different, they were different, and carried a very different understanding of the things around them, in addition to, harboring very different expectations towards the future, but Takeru’s pondering was more essential to his character than anything._

_“Takeru…”_

_To an outsider, the drawn-out word could have sounded more like a request to heed the schedule or a reprimand to focus on the positive, but behind those, there was the more stressed meaning of the recognition of the essence._

_Takeru looked him, a passing smile on his face, before standing up and leaving the babies jumping after him._

Even at the current moment, Angemon’s head was tilted to the side with the memory-invoked, subconscious, act of sympathy.

The visit hadn’t taken place too long ago and the growing discrepancy on what Takeru thought he was ought to do and where he felt he belonged had stayed simmering underneath the surface on both of their minds. 

“Ah, Angemon.”

The angel-type Digimon turned his gaze downward to see Elecmon who was clearly surprised to see him so unexpectedly.

He had visited the place in a passing a few weeks ago, but it had been more of a courtesy visit than a chance for a longer conversation.

Angemon let his mouth turn into a smile and exchanged the normal greetings, agreeing to help Elecmon with the evening supper to reciprocate the time he was swallowing from Elecmon’s day.

_And he was hungry himself._

* * *

 “It seems quite quiet.” Angemon let the words roll from his tongue nonchalantly, adding in just enough careful observation to mark the note as a question.

As expected Elecmon rose to his back legs, alert while placing few fishes on the fire. They had already fed the babies and remained as the last two mons awake in the area. “It is. –– Fewer digieggs have originated.”

Angemon didn’t move from his sitting position, remembering well how the future Elecmon had once told this to be an indication of upcoming hard times — that somehow the Digital World knew that it was an unfavorable time for new vulnerable Digimons, so the birth of new eggs was delayed until the threat was over. At the same time, it didn’t sit well with his knowledge of the younger Chosens’ fights in the Digital World, the kids were unlikely the only causes of a scuffle in the Digital World and it should have been visible here as well.

“Anything abnormal?” He finally asked, earning a shake of the head from the red and blue Digimon who was clearly deep in thoughts, not liking the situation.

“No, but the air…” Elecmon added pensively.

Angemon nodded in understanding; his own mind was still too shadowed by the traces of the Guard Levels and disturbances between the worlds, but with effort he could sense that it wasn’t just him.

“Anything not-fully Digimon?”

Elecmon’s ears twitched and eyes blinked once as he tried to remember anything out of the ordinary.

The following negative made Angemon more relaxed, glad that his earlier warning might prove out to have been in vain.

“Why here?”

Angemon appreciated the frankness Elecmon was approaching the topic. There was no dancing around the subject or hidden agendas. Elecmon was only interested in the well-being of the babies and through that, could be trusted.

Angemon took a moment to ponder how to formulate his answer. “There were disturbances in the future. –– In the end, they didn’t seem to originate from anywhere particular, and it was finally thought that they would come from here. It seems that someone, something, is trying to affect the future balance of things.”

The small Digimon considered the answer for quite a long time, contemplating the odds of how he would need to protect the place, “Bad?”

Putting the now empty bowl down slowly, Angemon gave a curt, tight smile, “Seems so.”

It was fully silent in the small opening, aside from the fading cracking of the fire. And for a small second, Angemon let his mind see the red glow and accentuated shadows of the fire around them framing the eerie cubic towers.

 

* * *

 

Takeru had been sitting in the hallway for the majority of the day since entering the building in the late morning hours. He had entered, _infiltrated_ , the apartment complex around 11 am, far after his younger self had left to school but before his mother had left to work, Mondays having carved into his mental calendar as a day for meetings and a late night in the office. It was a well-thought-out plan to avoid the agents keeping an eye on the younger kids’ movements from spotting him. On a more profound note, he wasn’t sure if the evasive tactic did any good, but trying to steer clear from every imminent source of trouble was so deep-rooted in him that he had opted the plan full-heartedly.

It had been a long wait. And a very awkward one on the top. The old lady and man from two doors down the corridor had been slightly baffled, if not alarmed, by a strange man loitering in the hall. Not for the first time in his life Takeru had been saved by his tidy outlook and well-mannered, calm responses; this time by claiming to be distant relative with just the right amount of resemblance and facts to actually pass the role.

He had given a soundless, but slightly exasperated, sigh afterward.

In some level, he had learned to accentuate to Angemon’s mindset on waiting — that things happen when they happen, that personal distress over something certain was unnecessary. However, on a much deeper level, lied his personal trepidation.

Hate over waiting and being alone with his thoughts.

It seemed to take a long time before the right bling of the elevator and the distinct ‘See you’s between him, Miyako and Iori.

And then there was the telltale sound of silence as his younger self spotted him squatted against the wall and stopped in his tracks.

They both stared at each other, his younger self’s mask of passive calmness cracking more than his own.

He could almost feel the way Patamon had to be moving in the backpack, surprised by the too-soon halt and the silence that followed.

“Sorry for intruding. Can I come inside?”

TK gave him an indistinct response and walked past him. However, his younger self did follow the normal courtesy and kept the door open for him, even if it was visibly clear that the young teen was not too eager to see him.

It looked unrealistically familiar, like re-living his own memories — which he in a way _was_ doing — but it still felt surreal to fathom. The beige kitchen lamp Patamon had once almost crashed down, the ceramic tray — received by his mom’s co-worker and lost in some move in some indistinct time-point of their lives.

All that brought him a feeling of something he didn’t have time to catch with his younger self staring at him and posing a much more pressing concern.

While he had managed to walk into the hallway comparing everything to his memories, TK had moved past him to the kitchen area and placed his backpack on the counter, trying to find pieces of familiarity in him.

_And the reservation couldn’t be missed._

After some minutes Takeru broke the silence, “I think Patamon would like to be let out,” nodding to the slight movement from the green bag.

The mirth in his voice didn’t luckily carry over thanks to his overall mood, but his note managed to wake his younger self out of the reverie.

TK fumbled with the zipper, taking his time before unveiling Patamon’s curious gaze.

Patamon looked at TK first, before sensing another presence behind him and turning around.

Takeru could easily read the small confusion and surprise over the orange Digimon’s features, offering a hint of a smile in return. It had been a conscious decision to cause the meeting to happen in the real World. Not only to hide from stalking or wanting to remain unknown by the rest of the Chosen, but to meet here with Patamon, instead of much more observant Angemon.

“Would you mind closing the curtains, I’d think it would be better for me not to be seen here.” Takeru interjected quietly, not moving from his spot from leaning the wall with his right shoulder.

A few swishes later, Takeru moved to the small kitchen—living room, taking a small look around before placing himself on the kitchen stool.

His younger self didn’t seem to know what to do and just stood near the furthermost curtain in the living room corner.

Patamon, on the other hand, made few flaps with his wings and landed very close to him, well inside his personal space.

The small Digimon stared at him, eyes blinking slowly.

Without hesitation, Takeru lowered his head the small amount Patamon needed to be able to poke it with his tiny black pawn.

“Feels like skin.”

Takeru didn’t know it was meant as a question or a statement, but he knew to just take it, that Patamon would clarify his words if needed. He could feel the unwavering stare from the young teen across the room, ready to jump in the minute he would end up posing any threat to Patamon, but he didn’t even take a glance, because at the moment Patamon deserved his full attention.

Eventually, Patamon relaxed back in a sitting position. He had been recognized, but Patamon’s unbroken stare told him that there was something even Patamon didn’t recognize.

It didn’t surprise him, but there was that nagging disappointment, like guessing right the onset of an economic collapse.

“What did you want to talk about?” TK’s voice rang, unnaturally harshly, in the quiet room, making both Patamon and Takeru to slowly break their staring and focus on the present.

“Trying to understand what is happening in the bigger picture. –– Mom will be at home about nine if I remember correctly?” Takeru surmised.

“Yeah. TK’s mother always comes home after nine on Mondays.” Patamon replied, the earlier contemplativeness fully absent from his voice and replaced by the distinctive cheerful note.

Amidst the white walls and the pressing silence, Takeru’s gaze wandered around, spotting the packet of rice crackers. He was used to split-seconds of vivid and often painful recollections, but the packet felt different. His mind was momentarily consumed by the memory of sulking the whole way home from the supermarket when he had been around six and his mother hadn't been willing to buy one. Despite the hundreds, if not thousands, of crackers he must have eaten in his youth, he hadn’t given them a single thought in a long time. And as TK focused on boiling water and cooking some ramen for Patamon, it was clear that none of them actually knew how to act in the given situation.

Whereas TK was evidently reserved out of dislike and apprehension, Takeru pushed his own emotions back, just because it was easier for him, his crappy mood of the past few weeks making him uninterested for small talk. Patamon was stuck in the middle, understanding none, why his partner, in either form, was very unlike his usual happy and easygoing self.

“What do you want to know?”

“A recap.” Takeru stated, furrowing his brows and forming a scrutinizing expression, before waving it off with his right hand.

“A recap?”

“Mhmm. What has happened since the end of the Kaiser, since the opening of the gate — well overall.”

Over an hour passed by with TK giving the explanation, interrupted very often by Takeru’s questions and much less often by Patamon’s additions.

Takeru had refused from the dinner TK had heated for himself and Patamon. His stomach did feel empty, but he felt too queasy to try and eat while maintaining the discussion.

There wasn’t much in the discussion. Takeru could feel the partial unwillingness from the other side of the table over opening up or revealing too much. There were bits and pieces that differed from his own experiences but those were understandable. He was already familiar with the issue with the Dark Towers and let the point slide, knowing his younger self would most likely have very little to add to the question. It didn’t still fully add up in his mind, and he could guess that his own reticent presence was in some way annoying the young teen.

This interested him to some extent. He was to some degree curious by nature, but also willing to abide to wait for answers from authority figures. The fact that the lack of information evoked emotions gave an indication that there was something wrong, or perhaps something upsetting, invisible to him at the moment. He tried testing some waters but retained from being too open so early on and with Patamon watching their exchange. Overall, it was getting late and he was clutching at straws, the writer in the back of his head underlining how important details could be.

“Mom has been busy at work.” The blond-haired boy answered, leaving out that he had been one of the last major topics. “Dad’s done long hours too.”

“It’s October, really?”

TK confirmed his earlier statement. “Yamato said that he has rarely had the time to even sleep at home.”

Their father was known to work long hours — one of the reasons for the divorce, Takeru surmised now. But after the events with the Digital World three years back, small changes had happened and Hiroaki had become more involved in both of their lives, realizing how fast they were growing up. Of course, Hiroaki could still be seen working until late at night, and the few day-offs were rather saved for later use, but more and more the 24/7 -shifts were reserved only for busy occasions and pressed deadlines.

_October wasn’t one of them._

Takeru twirled the tablet with his right hand, his gaze expectant and pondering as if the tablet would provide him answers when given time.

“Find out what it’s all about?”

“You want me to find out why dad is late at work?”

Takeru detected that despite the tone, the words didn’t indicate a question but a polite dismissal, his younger counterpart not favoring the idea.

Takeru let out a deep hum, “Ask Yamato or dad––.”

“––Just like that?” The overlapping answer sounded incredulous, making Takeru look at the young teen, face not giving any indication what he himself was feeling.

“It should be easy.”

TK stood still, staring at him, face similarly closed but eyes that shone with hardness.

_Petulant hardness_ , Takeru added to himself, the situation evoking an unexpected flame of irritation in him.

“You are going to tell the others?” TK asked, still not moving from his spot, but voice failing from being strong enough to hide the uneasiness the situation stirred in him.

Takeru drew in a breath of air, letting it out slowly. “Some point, yes.” And to prevent any future objections, “Depends on what we find out.”

Once their discussion was dying down and the meeting coming to an end, Patamon’s fidgeting became more obvious.

The small Digimon was antsy about something and Takeru knew that Patamon wouldn’t ask whether it would be okay to ask a question. Instead, the small Digimon would wait for the right moment, or leave the notion unasked. Given his mood, Takeru wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Patamon had on his mind, and he could sense the same from his younger self, even if then the realization was mixed with insecurity on how to deal with the situation in the first place.

Swallowing his nerves and discomfort Takeru opted to make the opening, “What is it?” managing to make both himself and his other self tensed.

A tiny blush covered Patamon’s face behind the short white fur and the small Digimon averted his gaze to the table shyly. “I was just wondering, about… me.”

Ignoring the growing tension on the other side of the table Takeru felt a twitch of a smirk on his face, “You?”

“Well… you seem to be alone here.”

“Mhmm.” Takeru nodded deeply, raising his brows as an act like he couldn't see the point of the question. Ultimately he gave a small snort to his own unplanned jest, “In the Digital World.”

Patamon’s eyes brightened considerably at this. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

TK watched the exchange quietly. For the brief moment, he had expected Angemon to appear in the previous Sunday’s battle, but for the situation not having spawned out as he had thought, the feeling had eluded him since. A small nagging question had stayed in the back of his mind. And now, when confirmed, the simple reply somehow shed new light to the man in front of him.

“Ah, Angemon…”

Takeru could read but didn’t overly enjoy the shock on the other occupants' demeanor.

“I’m Angemon?”

Takeru toyed with the tablet again, “Yeah. ––Most of the time.”

Patamon’s eyes were wide as the small Digimon thought of the possibilities. On the other hand, TK was even more shunned to himself, eyes on the dishes that he excused to take to the sink.

“That must be weird.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, I mean, I have always been Patamon in the Human World.” Patamon answered, oblivious to his teasing.

Takeru played the memory of Patamon complaining about the lack of space in every apartment he had lived in. “Yeah, still, mostly.” He settled, letting the tablet stay on the table.

“Can I meet him?”

“Yeah, I think it’ll be inevitable.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two personal disclaimers first. I had written 3/4 of the chapter before I realized that the sequence of things made zero sense. I had to cut and paste half of the text to the next chapter and plan the chapter anew. Not a happy experience. The flashback at the beginning was more tied to the scenes of the cut-out part, but the shift between the scenes felt too nice, so, I kept it in this chapter. On another note, my "expertise" in physics (or the complete lack thereof) goes back to a few basic high school courses with a not so good teacher. I tried to research the subject and terms as much as it was worthwhile possible. Please be merciful if (and when) I got something messed up. Please...
> 
> A big Thank you for the kudos-givers!
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

  _“Uh, the pain. 2 am. I swear the tax form gets more complicated each year. You’d think you’d get better at it when time goes by.”_

_There had started to be more and more instances. Albeit small and far between at first, but more pronounced with time. The small blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments every now and then that, unbeknownst to others, dug Takeru deeper into the hole. Moments when he felt like his world would freeze for a second. He looked back at his speaking companions, the other two guests of the morning TV-show, talking about current news and issues to pass the time as they waited for their turn. In reality, the moment didn’t last as long as it did in Takeru’s head, but even then, he was sure the other two could notice the hollowness behind his polite smile – how he really didn’t have anything to say on the subject._

_When was the last time when he had made any changes to his tax form?_

_In truth, he never had._

_For the first few years of his adult life, when he still had been going back and forth between the Digital and the Human World, he had done some odd jobs, written and gotten scattered income, but even then, he had had so little time or will to focus on something as normal as taxes. And if his memory served him right, it had been Sora and his mother who had kindly stepped in and completed most of the paperwork._

_The conversation stabbed him deep with the outsiderness of missing out on the basic features and practices of human life. He was a kid from the jungle who had been brought to civilization at adulthood or a long-term prisoner who had been freed only to discover the Internet, mobile phones and a fully different world. He had decided to jump into the deep end and learn, but even now at the green room, he felt hollow and indifferent. The recent events and problems with the Digital World had given him a fortified purpose that he secretly welcomed. A chance to talk about the Digital World and plead the cause — today for Taichi’s behalf as the older man was busy with a high-level meeting overseas._

_Paradoxically, the life he had strived to build outside the Digital World now revolved around Digimons and the Digital World. And still, he wasn’t in the Digital World, or with Angemon._

_Instead, he was somewhere where he was supposed to care about tax forms. Despite the fact that a small voice in the back of his mind tried to point it out to him that he didn’t really even care about the lack of caring. Takeru stirred the coffee in the polystyrene cup, staring unseeingly the transitory ripples from the movement._

* * *

Takeru looked up from the cup at Angemon’s robust posture, taking a moment before swallowing the warm tea.

Angemon didn’t say anything but Takeru could read the expression of silent worry and uneasiness.

“More tea?”

The cue turned the angel-Digimon’s serious stance into a compliant nod.

Angemon didn’t turn his back again and instead stayed opposite to him, observing him with accustomed ease. The angel-type Digimon’s sips were deeper, more relishing, than Takeru’s ever could. The evening was calm apart from the small wind from the sea. Odaiba often had the charm of being fully isolated and quiet despite being a part of a 14 million people Metropolis.

“It’s not good in the Digital World either.” Angemon commented. And after a reminiscing silence, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get your arm in better shape.”

Takeru immediately shook off Angemon’s apology, feeling uneasy and guilty over the matter himself. Angemon had tried to heal his left arm for the second time, hoping that the effects of the distortion would have faded away with time. His arm was still tightly wrapped under the bandages, infected and emaciated skin and bone underneath.

“How are you feeling?” It was a loaded question, heavy with meaning and the deep careful voice it was issued with.

Takeru was silent for a bit and stared the opening scenery of the sea ahead of him before answering. “It hurts, but I’m fine.” He replied with added easygoing nonchalance; expression betraying him more than his words.

Angemon turned his head to the side. There was a displeasure created disagreement bubbling under the surface of his features. Angemon put the empty cup down, his lips in a thin line. He hated the very idea of Takeru being predisposed to darkness. The feeling of failure was even more pronounced now with the relapse and the misplaced naivety at cause weighed his mind.

“I think it’s the distortion we came through. The darkness might have grasped a memory of your arm in the database.”

It was a futile comment to ease both of their guilt over the existing status quo.

“They are stronger in here than I expected”, Takeru commented swiftly, clearly wanting to change the subject from his metaphorically gangrened arm — of the _darkness_ in him.

Both of their line of thought was broken by the noise of an emergency vehicle from the Rainbow Bridge. Their gaze followed the direction, despite the fact that they were well hidden behind the vegetation and trees on the bank.

“They are. ––  How did it go?”

Takeru gave a glare at Angemon’s covertly mirthful question. He sighed with a pensive expression, brows frowned.

“Surprisingly straightforward with Ichijouji. I… didn’t remember that _I_ was so frustrating.” Takeru snorted but ending his words with a higher tone, asking Angemon’s opinion.

”You thought it would be easy?”

The airy question made Takeru glare at his partner again. Beneath that, it was evident Angemon’s merriment managed to ease the mood.

“I don’t think he liked me. At least he didn’t trust me. —— You were nice though.”

Angemon gave a deep warm laugh. “What about Ken?”

“Good. He seemed worried over Oikawa and Arukenimon — understandably so. I think they might have harassed him more than he has let on. —— Okay with everything and polite. Very okay.” Takeru sighed, not knowing whether his own remorse was coloring his interpretation or had he even managed to forget how good a person Ken had been. Angemon sensed his saddening line of thought, letting the silence commemorate the fellow Chosen.

“Ken is polite. He also draws to himself upon threats, at least now when he is still young and unsure of himself after the manipulation.”

“There’s the ‘but’ when it comes to me.” Takeru huffed a laugh, earning an agreeing tilt of the head from his partner Digimon. This only caused him to issue a stronger snort.

“You act up. Right now _you_ pose an unknown factor — a possible threat. Not to mention that you can both see through each other to some extent, it makes you restless and apprehensive, worry over your natural defense mechanism of spinning people around when needed. —— I would be more worried if you were on overly happy relations.” Angemon commented with a playful color in his voice.

“Doesn’t sound an overly positive review.” Takeru chuckled, feeling a small sting from the words.

Angemon just smiled at him.

“It’s in motion. We need to go with it and stop it.” Angemon remarked, falling back into a more serious note. “Every day you spend here and the kids know about the future poses a risk of the timeline to change irreversibly. —— They need to come to the Digital World.”

Opting to comment on the more pressing problem instead of his own discomfort Takeru looked into the horizon, “The distortions would still intensify, unless the source can be erased first.”

“They would.”

Angemon was quiet for a moment.

“It still might not help.”

Takeru looked up confused, forgetting the cool evening air from the sea for a moment. “Meaning?”

“The energy in the Guard Levels might be causing too many distortions for the walls.”

_The imprisoned evils of the Digital World might break free._

Takeru felt a chill down his spine that, for now, had nothing and everything to do with the wind, a primal abomination settled in his stomach.

They were talking about _Piedmon, Daemon,_ among dozens, if not hundreds, of other dark-born creatures that bore very little similarity to the beings they had once been, making an invasion to the Digital World, battling out who could turn it into their playground.

Takeru would have prayed for it to be a joke but Angemon’s solemn stance, back straight, and wings stretched out, made the information sink into his mind.

“How do we stop it?” It was a well habituated Chosen Children outlook, how to battle for life.

“You need to find where the energy comes from. I’ll keep fortifying the walls. But the kids and the partner Digimons need to move to the Digital World.”

“And if the distortions feed into themselves?”

Angemon looked at Takeru for a long moment, before answering somberly, “Then we’ll hinder the connection.”

“–– between the Human and the Digital World.” Takeru laughed humorlessly, the full scale of the situation dawning to him.

“Yes.”

Takeru could understand Angemon’s intent. They would need to try and prevent the timeline from shifting too much by taking the variables out of the present in the Human World. The kids could move between the worlds, but since distortions would still keep affecting the Human World, they would need to hinder the connection. With a weakened connection the distortions wouldn’t affect Human World as badly, and more importantly, the time difference between the worlds would grow exponentially, giving them more time to fix the problem before the effects would have time to materialize.

The plan would hopefully remove some of their most pressing concerns, but it left the more private complications.

“How I’m going to convince them to do that?” Takeru asked with calm apprehension. “They are already being used. Himekawa and others are setting their pace on all of this. They are only going to mess with them more.”

“That is a risk we have to take. We can’t leave them here.”

Takeru’s expression was grave. He turned his gaze to match Angemon’s eyes, the underlying thought evident but unsaid. _They had no idea how to actually fix this mess._ They didn’t even know in what mess they were in — only that every piece of information was painting much more dire situation than they had originally thought possible.

“I’m not too eager to go to talk to them.”

Angemon devolved into Patamon to travel with Takeru back to the hotel. “I’ll go do that, and you’ll go take care of the bad guys.” Patamon stated sleepily and felt Takeru’s ensuing laugh.

 

* * *

 

\- _“Did you find anything about Dad’s schedule?”_

_“There have been some issues with transmitting programs what I’ve understood.”_

_\- … “Tell the necessities to Koushirou and ask Dad to make you visit the TV-tower as soon as possible._

_\- “On a quieter time preferably.”_

TK felt annoyed, the endnote in his D-terminal screen not making him feel any better.

_“What should we look for?”_

_\- “Anything out of the ordinary will do. And if you can, fix what’s wrong.”_

There was no pointing out the fact that they actually didn’t have the experience to know what was ordinary in the first place. TK decided to just hope for the best and trust Koushirou to be smart enough to be able to find if there was anything worth finding, instead of continuing the exchange.

_“You aren’t coming with us?”_

_\- “I think it’s best not to.”_

In the end, a part of him felt relieved. Not to mention that he could understand the reasoning; they would be needed to be accompanied by his dad in order to get by the building. His main task now was to get Koushirou with him in such short notice.

* * *

“Are you serious?”

TK had to give Koushirou credit on managing his shock so well. For a person with an extremely logical and scientific mindset, Koushirou was adapting to the fantasy aspect of the news extremely well. Much faster than he himself had; a part of him still wary and trying to accommodate to the situation.

TK repeated the core idea, keeping his voice low to keep their discussion inside Koushirou’s room.

“TV-station?” Koushirou asked, blinking for a few times but thinking fast. Once again the Digital World’s effect materialized in their reactions and it didn’t take long for Koushirou to put his newly formed plan into action.

“I was actually supposed to have a chat on a school project, but I’ll inform them that I can’t make it.” The red-headed boy explained distractedly, grasping his pineapple laptop and few other items TK couldn’t quite recognize before they disappeared into the older boy’s bag.

“What are we up against? Human? Digimon?”

“I don’t know.” TK was forced to admit, the question and the absent answer heavy on his mind likewise.

Koushirou observed him for a second, before nodding to some internal resolution, making TK pose a hesitant smile.

It didn’t take them long to reach the TV-station. Overall, it hadn’t been easy for TK to convince his dad to take a few hours off from work — in a sense — and assert that the tour had to take place today. It had been a tricky choice of words and tones to assure the sense of urgency without evoking _too much_ concern. Luckily, if he was good at anything, the balancing act was it. There was a clear sense of accomplishment when he managed to get the persuasion right, and the hollowness that should have ensued went, at least still, under his radar.

Eventually, they had to wait for fifteen minutes before Hiroaki came to pick them up from near the cafeteria tables in the first-floor lobby, steps brisk and expression somewhat pressed.

Hiroaki gave few studying sideways glances at them as they passed doors and elevator rides to the top floors towards his workstation. This time, TK was glad that their father was never one to question their Digital World related endeavors. Usually, it was just convenient, but now, it felt more of a relief and a thought of his older self meeting their father forced him to swallow an uncomfortable wave of sweat and nausea that coursed through him.

“What did you want to see?”

Koushirou took the question to himself, being almost fully up to the situation. “The Master Control Room.”

Hiroaki grunted an understanding, jaw tight. “It’s not the easiest. I don’t technically have access and it’s recently been quite busy with technicians.”

TK stayed behind the two, letting the two discuss the subject with their better understanding, the emptying offices glided past as they walked through the corridors.

It was already well past eight in the evening but the last months’ problems kept people at work to a frustrating amount and it took them a lot of waiting and superfluous small talk to finally manage to get into the desired area. Koushirou drew his laptop from his bag immediately and set to work, shooting more specific questions at Hiroaki who observed the machinery, head held up. TK had a suspicion that his father didn’t really understand much of the technical specifics, at least to this extent, but refused to show it in front of them. He had to press his lips tighter together to stop the laugh at the thought of Yamato acting exactly the same in a given situation.

They didn’t have nearly enough time for Koushirou to try to understand the niceties either, so they agreed to let Koushirou focus on saving as much data and analytics as possible before they would have to flee.

TK just waited and watched silently as Koushirou’s fingers worked furiously, eyes scanning the screen as if the older teen was racing to find Waldo over and over again. Hiroaki had taken a position by the door; hand on the door handle, listening to sounds from the hallway and ready to keep the door closed with his grip if needed.

The minutes crawled by and after fifteen minutes Koushirou unplugged his laptop, packed it and the rest of the equipment with few precise movements before they left the room.

Hiroaki escorted them back to the lobby and left to work, taking one last glance at TK as if saying to keep himself safe.

There was a nagging sense of guilt on TK’s mind for all the secrecy. The note of being alone and isolated from others around him. Moreover, it was a quiet walk, despite the fact that Takeru had ordered him to walk Koushirou home even if this meant a longer detour. TK had a hazy vision of his older self hiding in the bushes, keeping an eye on them to prevent any attacks, but it failed to make him relaxed.

He hoped that his mother wasn’t too agitated over his late arrival at home, and decided to keep his mouth shut over the fact that he had been with his father, since he didn’t want to cause a row between them.

 

* * *

 

On the next day, there was a quiet look of surprise on Koushirou’s features as he spotted the blond-haired man expecting him on his ride home. Koushirou let the bike ride to a halt at the sight of him, and once the speed had died down, the boy put his left leg on the ground for support. The two of them just stared at each other for a second.

“You are Takaishi, Takeru, right?” The young teen asked. –– “What is it?”

“Could we look the collected data together? It would be great to hear what you think.” Takeru answered evenly. Inside he felt much more hesitant than he let on. In the future, Koushirou was a good friend of him, if not one of the closest one on understanding where they came from. There was a childish wish deep inside him that wanted someone to explain to him what was going on — familiar people to trust to.

It mattered.

“Sure.” Koushirou nodded after a pause “I actually was supposed to go and check the Tokyo Tower, would it be okay to go together?”

“Tokyo Tower?”

“Yeah. It’s the transmission tower of the Fuji-TV, the Odaiba building is just the control station. I want to check what’s the difference between the two.” Koushirou clarified.

“Oh… Sure.”

They agreed to meet at the nearest subway station after Koushirou had dropped his bike at home. Takeru felt an odd mix of restlessness and calm determination; they had a plan and an idea of how things would turn out. For the great unknown of the past year or so, it felt oddly empowering. However, now it was going to be a question of running against time and preceding potential variables. Waiting on calm moments like this felt useless, like at the start line of a marathon, two minutes before the takeoff.

Overall, the air felt a lot nicer than a day ago. The sun was high on the sky and the cool breeze from the sea felt customary to Odaiba. The small number of people walking through the station gave almost an absurd feeling to the scene.

How easily it could all change. A few Nightmare Soldiers could cause irredeemable destruction in a matter of minutes. The memory of the news on the first human victims caused by a Digimon attack shadowed his mind. The opposition and demonstrations that had followed the later months even more so.

At times, Takeru was happy to have been too young to understand the situation like an adult when Myotismon had attacked Odaiba. Still, to have seen that… it often felt extremely surreal to live ordinarily as if something like that couldn’t happen at any given moment.

It didn’t take too long for Koushirou to reach the station albeit red-faced and chest heaving from the run. After that, it was a quiet ride, both somewhat wary to talk in public amidst open ears.

Koushirou recommended that they should ride to the upper observation deck for less noise from the systems of the ground-floor shops and cafes. For their hindrance, the level lagged clear desktop space and a quiet corner where to stop, which added a level to the balancing act.

Takeru let Koushirou focus on the job while keeping his own eyes open, in case anyone had decided to follow them inside.

“Did you manage to find anything from yesterday?” Takeru asked sincerely, making the young teen to raise his gaze as if trying to read his.

“I’m not sure. There might be something with the frequency, modulation or the purity of the signal. There are so many frequencies used that it’s a nightmare to sort out.” Koushirou answered absent-mindedly keeping his fingers on the move the whole time. “What do you expect me to find?”

Takeru gave a small amused smile for Koushirou’s intelligence against the small spark of pain that coursed through him. “Energy is being accumulated to certain parts of the Digital World. The worlds in general, even if quite open to the flow of energy, are usually very stable in the amount of energy. If the total amount of energy is increasing it has to come from somewhere.”

“Our World?” Koushirou asked, slightly taken aback by Takeru’s information. The theory of the Digital World had always intrigued him and after the collapse of his earlier theory, the chance to gain new information was alluring.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Takeru shrugged.

The two of them resolved to silence yet again, Takeru keeping his eyes on the rest of the floor, hoping that Koushirou would be able to hurry up.

However, it was not so much of the search, but about trust. In the end, Koushirou had to sigh and relent to the new situation of not knowing all the answers and what giving his own would cause. “They are wasting energy.”

“Hmph?”

“They are channeling too much energy through the transmitter.” Koushirou clarified, voice a tiny bit stronger the second time.

“Meaning?”

Koushirou raised his gaze and held it. “The broadcasting doesn’t work since they are putting too much power through the system. In layman terms, they are using an excessive amount of energy.”

Takeru contemplated this for a second. “What happens to the energy?”

“It gets transmitted in a sense. Technically it makes no difference; the signal might be stronger or some of it might transmit in a slightly different frequency. I mean if you broadcast a program, it will still appear on TV, they just have an excess of it so the link can’t uphold everything at once with the same quality. But it’s not a big change.”

“Where does the energy go?”

“Technically it’s not really transferring energy in the form or quantity we would be able to use.”

“But technically it is energy?”

“Yes. –– I mean technically when it leaves here it just spreads around, if you may the term; from the Fuji TV-station it probably goes to the satellite.”

“Digital World, how could they harness it without affecting the coding?”

Koushirou went silent, the question surprising him. “I don’t know. I mean we are talking about Digital World. Energy from here to there. We have used the Digivices, and in some way our crests portray a source of energy…”

“You are making it too complicated. In the Human World, how do you grasp the energy?”

 Koushirou blinked again.

“With an antenna and or a demodulator, or a new transmitter. Like this place.”

“A structure or item that transmits energy?”

“Technically.”

Takeru let his eyes sweep over the sea of buildings under them, the vision transferring in his mind to a view of the Digital World. Koushirou’s fingers still moved on the keyboard. Few visitors walked behind them as they circled the top floor. However, mostly oblivious to this, Takeru tried to picture every structure and building he had encountered over the years. But nothing seemed to feel right. There were antennas, yes. But in the case of a single antenna, the coalition of energy should have been detectable. Now it had to be extremely widespread…

It took a moment for the answer to struck him.

“They are using Dark Towers.”

It was more of a statement to himself than Koushirou, but it didn’t matter.

“The Dark Towers?...“ Koushirou’s response was left in the air, as Takeru ploughed on.

“Can you stop the energy transmission?”

“But the Dark Towers, if they are being used…”

“–– Yes or no?” Takeru interjected restlessly but not unkindly.

“I… I’m not sure. I’d have to fine-tune the directive or maybe it’s about machinery…” Koushirou answered hesitantly. “There are multiple frequencies, they probably aren’t even using just one, maybe even alternating between all.”

Takeru frowned. “How long would it take?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure whether I can get access to the system. —— I think the best would be to inform the technicians about the problem.”

“That will take days.” Takeru sighed quietly, earning a hum of agreement from the young teen. “If we take it down, can they do the same for any other station-transmitter pair?”

“Technically, yes.”

Takeru cursed the situation in his head. They would never win this by numbers or time, every incident adding to the changes in the course of time.

“Can you curb the energy source?”

“No. It would have the same problem. The energy comes from the national grid, so in a sense, the supply is endless.”

Takeru ran a hand through his hair.

They discussed the subject for some time, watching the cityscape light-up under the descending sun.

By the late evening, it had become more and more evident that they would need to weaken the link and increase the distortion between the worlds — fast.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?! You doubled the amount of Kudos?! Wasn't expecting that, but Thank you!
> 
> Sorry, it took some time to lock down what the main mechanism behind everything is going to be. I've had rough idea, but to decide a possible scenario with all the moving parts proved out to be - maybe not a mountain - but at least a medium-sized hill to tackle. Hopefully it will be worth the wait in the future chapters! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

“Hey, Yamato!”

Then blond-haired teen whipped his head around with the sense of unbothered charisma that could only be achieved by him.

“Hmh? Taichi.”

The young teen in question took a few long strides to reach Yamato. They were both on their way to their old IT-classroom, Taichi making his way from a soccer practice while Yamato had left — reluctantly — from the band practice, guitar case now on his back. It was only a week ago when the teen had crumbled something of group issues during their Japanese class.

Taichi’s initial wide smile paved way for the budding awkward silence, like it did more and more often these days, when they were alone together. With the rest of the Chosen around, their earlier fights and squabbles had been replaced by having fun at Daisuke’s expense which helped to take away the focus from their own friendship.

“You don’t think they have crashed the Digital World?” Taichi settled to ask, and took a long sip from the soda can — still half-way full, thanks to his rush to try and be on time.

Yamato shrugged a laugh to the lackluster joke, “Hopefully not.”

“Mmmm. —— Hikari has been giving me a look for more than a few times. That they have something going on, but when you look back or ask, it’s all ‘Nothing.’” Taichi continued with a good-natured sigh. There was, however, warmness in his tone with a memory of their own days in the Digital World. In contrast, the reminiscent was also accompanied by the question of their role now. Hikari and the others were growing up, and the fact that as elders they didn’t know everything that was going on left him with a reservation.

The silence lasted a tad bit longer than he had expected. A car passed by and the fence around the school felt just as long as it had felt two years prior when they had been running to school —late.

There was a second when Taichi’s mind was crossed by the thought whether his notion was taken the wrong way considering that Yamato and TK didn’t live together. However, Yamato answered before he had time to correct his words. “Dad looked at me with the same expression yesterday.”

Taichi replied nothing but let his mouth open in a surprise.

“Also asked me to look after TK.” Yamato continued somberly, raising his chin subconsciously.

“Really? I wonder what resulted into that?” Taichi asked, earning a supportive contemplative nod from the other teen. “Hikari’s notion didn’t seem to be anything about group issues, so it’s difficult to say anything about that.”

“You think they are fighting?” Yamato chuckled.

“They could. — We did.” Taichi replied with an equal amount of amusement in his voice. Finally reaching the other side of the school gates, he threw the empty can into the trash bin, before putting hands into his pockets to fight against the cool temperature.

“TK is too smart to fight.” Yamato retorted back, and Taichi could hear how the small irritation over the supposition was mixed with reticent pride.

“I guess. But Daisuke is not.” Taichi commented, making them both laugh.

Their laugh was cut short when they entered the school, only to see Hikari waiting for them, the hesitant crack of a smile from the serious face indicating that this wasn’t just a happy get-together.

 

* * *

 

The school corridors were already deserted apart from one or two students. The silence underlined the mood as the three walked up the stairs, Hikari’s revelation still ringing in Taichi and Yamato’s ears.

The situation had to hit him hard, because against his custom, he knocked IT-class door steadily before entering.

_He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to do that._

His eyes found first the younger kids and their partners who had occupied the front of the class. The Digimons were eating snacks, and albeit _they_ were very content, there was an eerie sense of forced silence in the room. Daisuke was standing with his arms crossed and generally not looking too pleased or self-assured. TK seemed to be even more uncertain on how to react to their arrival, and as did Ichijouji. Then there were Miyako and Iori who appeared to have focused on the Digimons as an easy getaway, and Sora who stood up from her spot on the desk, also hesitant. Despite a few tries, Sora couldn’t find the words and settled to turn her gaze towards the other side of the class and whom had to be Takeru sitting on one of the desks.

Excluding the absurdity of the situation, Taichi’s mind was crossed with the notion that without given the information, he wasn’t sure whether he would have recognized Takeru. The blond-hair with the green blazer and blue eyes conveyed a very Takeru-ish outlook. However, even seated, Taichi could see that Takeru was tall, very tall, with a body structure quite close to Hiroaki. Moreover, in the posture, there was more than a hint of boredom and disinterest instead of formal; an expression of uncharitableness that felt very unnatural to see on Takeru. There was also a sense of authority, and the man didn’t rise up to greet them, forcing the teens to settle into a somewhat confused and aimless half of a bow.

Sensing that Takeru wouldn’t give them more than a half-hearted acknowledging nod, Taichi turned to the others for help, Yamato’s eyes blinking like a deer on headlights and staying on the man.

“We are still waiting for Koushirou. Joe couldn’t make it on such short notice.” Sora began. It was clear that the mood even before the two teens had entered hadn’t been any less uncomfortable.

The silence stretched on with the Digimons’ munching creating an awkward soundtrack.

“You are really Takeru?” Taichi finally asked to break the silence. He wasn’t exactly sure whether he wanted to issue small-talk or set his own authority as the group’s leader.

His question didn’t manage to receive anything more than an ‘Mhmm.’

“Good.” Taichi replied his mouth dry and hanging slightly open, brain not cooperating fast enough on how to continue the non-existent discussion. “So, how’s the future? Interesting?”

“Let’s just wait for Koushirou to turn up so we can get things moving.”

“Right.” Taichi replied overly acceptingly, resolving back to his spirit. Takeru had issued the remark with a calm, polite smile but the dismissing message couldn’t be mistaken.

_More munching._

_More staring from the frozen Yamato next to him who didn’t seem to know on what to say or how to act._

The minutes stretched on, but Koushirou finally entered, making everyone sigh internally form the relief. To Taichi’s surprise, Koushirou wasn’t shocked by the situation; rather, the young teen managed a much proper bow than he himself or Yamato had. Even Takeru stood up, giving likewise a clearly deeper nod in return. 

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“I’d need to draw some characters on Hikari’s arm — if that’s okay.” Takeru replied with a change of subject, his eyes staying a second more on Koushirou when he spoke.

“What?”

“Hikari?”

Takeru’s straightforward request — dictation — had the intended effect and before Taichi could form a solid counterargument, Hikari had already agreed in good will, not seeing any harm in compliance.

“Hey! How do we know it’s not some weird hexing?” Daisuke asked past the older teens, moving his arms to a more confrontational pose. While Taichi had been predisposed to reason arguments to a compromise, Daisuke was still more prone to give a more open, feeling-based response. Right now, he was partially relieved to have Daisuke issuing the notion that had crossed his mind as well. However, what caught his attention more, was the expression on the man’s face and how difficult it was to read. The expression, while superficially quite neutral, masked a look that was closest to pleased and annoyed face at the same time. With the lack of background information, he had to leave the issue ungrounded.

The pause was enough for Takeru to take a breath and slow his movements to calm the opposition, “It’s just a few characters with a permanent marker.”

“Why?”

“Protection.” Takeru replied, tipping his head to the side, shrugging the question off.

“Just Hikari?”

“Just Hikari.” Takeru huffed a small laugh. Taichi surmised that it was probably a genuine reaction, but coming from Takeru, it seemed unnatural; he had never witnessed TK respond with anything else than a polite silence at tops.   

“Okay.” Taichi replied with having nothing more profound to say. In a way, he couldn’t see anything wrong in the situation. It was Takeru — everyone seemed to have accepted the supposition. They were a group. Maybe he was overlooking the discomfort and the tense mood, or the way TK had closed off, appearing much more serious than usual. Maybe, he failed to give a thought on how beneficial tactic it was for Takeru to downplay the concern and act as the situation was not a big deal in order to gain their trust. Because TK had never been anything but trustworthy and straightforwardly honest — not to mention willing to look after Hikari.

“Just a black marker.” Takeru showed to the closest teens, once Hikari had sat on a computer desk, Takeru stood on her side, with almost everyone, most notably Taichi, Daisuke and TK, watching the situation closely.

The man drew in a few breaths, and to his surprise, Taichi could notice that the staring seemed to bother the man. Takeru began the movement a few times, before stopping short and starting again. Once the black lines started to form on Hikari’s arm, Taichi’s eyes wandered on the flat tablet on the table beside Takeru, the large touch screen displaying the model text making him blink.

The room was quiet for a few minutes and not even Koushirou — who appeared to be the less faced and awkward of the Chosen — dared to interfere with the task.

Ideally, the characters would have been concealable by the sleeves of Hikari’s gloves, but the size of the characters made it clear that few of them would be left visible, which made Taichi cringe at the idea of their parents noticing them.

“What does it do?” Taichi asked surprisingly neutrally despite the older-brother stance.

“Protects against evil.” Takeru replied simply, not taking his eyes off his work. To her credit Hikari was an extremely calm model, staying still and quiet not to cause movements in her arm.

With the four characters finally fully drawn and Takeru’s request to let the ink dry properly, Koushirou tilted his head next to Taichi, “Digital World characters?” Even Taichi could recognize the shape and the style, but he had never really specialized in the characters, leaving it to Koushirou to translate the text.

“Mhmm. Newer version.” Takeru explicated, before focusing on Hikari again, ”Try not to let it wash off. I can reinforce it when needed.” Takeru finished with thanks.

“So, what is the emergency? Well, apart from the obvious.” Miyako asked with an uncertain laugh. It was clear that all the Chosen tried to read each other’s expressions on how to act in the new circumstances.

Takeru put the marker back to his bag.

Unsure on how to react to Takeru’s prolonged silence, Koushirou piped in, “We have a situation where energy is transmitted from our World to the Digital World. We would need to travel to the Digital World to fix the issue. Or that’s what I have gathered out of this.”

Takeru nodded to Koushirou’s moderating remark, ignoring the small gasps of surprise that echoed in the room. “Something from the future is interfering with systems here and trying to cause distortions in the Digital World. With the events here, the timeline is becoming altered. So, it seems like the wisest decision is to move the events to the Digital World.” Takeru concluded with an almost inaudible sigh.

“For how long?”

“Not sure. Hopefully not too long in the Human World’s timeframe. In the Digital World, maybe a month or more.”

“A month in the Digital World?” Daisuke echoed, forcing Taichi to swallow his response for the meantime.

“Or so. Depends.” The man commented impassively. 

“That’s a long time. How will we cover for the kids’ absence?” Taichi asked, with a perplexity induced demand in his voice.

“Actually Taichi, we would all be going.” Koushirou intervened.

“What?”

“When you already know, you might end up changing the timeline by staying here.”

“–– And we might need more firepower on our side.” Takeru finished Koushirou’s argument.

“Against…?”

“We aren’t certain of that yet.” Takeru answered ambiguously.

“You knew about this, Koushirou?” Sora asked, giving a clear form for one of the thoughts on Taichi’s mind. Not for the first time, Taichi had to praise Sora’s calm and soft vocalization that managed to make the question much less accusing than any of his utterances could have.

“Only from yesterday.” Takeru interfered. “And I asked him not to tell for the sake of the timeline before we have a decent sort of plan.”

It was a much lighter remark than anything else during the early evening, and it made Taichi, as well as everyone else, to miss the passing mix of relief and guilt on more than one Chosen’s face.

“What actually is the plan?”

It was the first time Yamato opened his mouth in the discussion, the earlier silence weighing his laconic tone.

“Actually, we ––“

“We’d travel to the Digital World tomorrow morning. If we leave around 8 am, it should give us approximately 12 hours or so, to alter the timeframe that ties the worlds. After that, we should see how we could stop the destabilization of the Digital World.”

“But, we are going to come back after the timeframe shift. If it takes half a day, I mean, it won’t leave us any time.”

“Last time it was months in the Digital World, while I was only a few hours in the Human World.” Taichi replied to Miyako, continuing Takeru’s note that ‘The baseline coding will change the speed of time in each world.’

There was heavy silence as everyone tried to intake the new information.

“What about Mimi?” Sora finally asked. The question actually startled Taichi, he could easily forget how Mimi was no longer customarily with them — just as easily as he could forget that Ichijouji, on the other hand, _was_ with them. The observation made him blink and instinctively search for the very quiet boy who was now standing near the window looking nearly petrified.

”I hoped Koushirou would find a way to inform her under the radar. Create a link to contact her safely.”

“You think the Digital World will recognize the need for her and open the portal?” Iori’s young voice piped in.

“You are talking about the Digital World as if it had feelings of its own.” Daisuke commented incredulously.

“But if the portal previously opened when she was needed.” Iori countered with their past experiences.

“The Digital World has feelings.”

Everyone turned to look at Hikari. True to herself, the words weren’t issued with a loud voice but with such irrevocable finality that they rang through the classroom. Even Taichi stared at Hikari; he had never learned to relate to his little sister’s connection to the Digital World, Hikari’s disappearance and the feeling of helplessness that had followed earlier in the year were potent in his mind.

“Sora, could you inform Joe, please.” Takeru asked after a silence and earned a nod from the young teen.

“What do we pack?” Miyako laughed nervously. It was then when it really clicked in Taichi mind on how inexperienced the younger team actually was.

“Food and nutrients, small and lightweight. You can take a sleeping back, but it will add weight. I trust Joe to take care of the first-aid kit. Few people should take a packet of matches.  Jackknife is useful too, I remember that Yamato, you had one, right?”

“A torch, and something from home. If we are off for a longer time… I always thought it would be nice to have something like that.” Sora continued gently, making all the original Chosen nod subconsciously.

“A warm set of clothes, in case.” Takeru added.

“But the Digital World changes our clothes!” Daisuke exclaimed.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure that everything's okay?”

TK didn’t have to pull his head out of the fridge to feel the expression on his mother’s eyes.

The look of slight intrigue and worry had appeared on Natsuko’s face late last night after he had been rummaging through the laundry basket and the medical cabinet, and only gathered more fuel from his early morning wake-up.

“Yeah. All good.” TK answered voice louder than usual to have it heard beyond the fridge which contents he was mapping with great scrutiny.

“Even you are not usually up this early on Sundays.”

“We are meeting with friends.” TK replied, finally pulling back and answering his mother’s gaze.

“Okay.”

TK battled himself for the fourth time, whether he could usher his mother to leave to work, but decided once again against the tactic. He felt tenser than he would have liked and the half-packed school bag on his bed felt as if it were a physical need. 

“Can you pick up the package from the grocery store on your way back?” Natsuko asked while packing her own briefcase and retrieved her coat.

“Sure. But it might be quite late.”

“Late? How long are you going to be out?” Natsuko asked with an astonished laugh. Despite this, TK could feel the suspicion coming in waves.

“I’m not sure yet. Depends on what Daisuke comes up with.”

It was a desperate tactic but it still seemed to work as Natsuko gave him a tiny smile.

TK focused on rummaging the cupboards until his mother reminded him to stay out of trouble and closed the door behind her. His own actions instantly stilled now when he was alone — and his hand was still holding the cupboard door open. There was an unexpected sense of finality in the air. As if he had just visited a dying relative for the last time. Overall, the feeling was so unexpected that he didn’t know how to process it. He had been in the Digital World numerous times before, had spent numerous nights there before, and fought countless battles, the feeling, however, was unprecedented. 

His walk back to the room went in a haze with the few packets of food in his hands.

Patamon was sleeping on his bedspread; he could have explained it as preserving energy for the days to come, but in reality, he knew it was just Patamon being Patamon.

His alarm clock ticked away as he tried to fathom whether he had packed everything. However, just as he was about to wake up Patamon, there was a beep from his D-terminal.

It wasn’t from Miyako messaging that they were already downstairs waiting for him.

_‘You are going to destroy the Digital World.’_

Was it a warning? Or a threat? TK’s mind plowed through the options, his eyes skimming the text while his shoulders were tensed. He managed to answer plausibly nonchalant ‘Nothing.’ to the still sleepy Patamon. They didn’t have much time left before they would actually be late, but it took nearly ten seconds for him to tear his eyes away from the ‘Sender unknown’ icon in the left row — falling in line with the previous ones.

In the end, he managed to close his overbearing school bag and shuffle Patamon into his arms and make it in time to the front yard. At this time Patamon was starting to wake up and shuffle in his arms to find a better position but his attention was elsewhere and eyes searching for more than just Iori and Miyako.

Less than five minutes later the two plus two arrived, and he could convince himself that the feeling in the back of his mind was just nervousness caused by the latest events.

The walk proved out to be uneventful, even if they were all starting to question how on earth they would manage to make headway in the Digital World, when the weight of their snacks and equipment was proving out to be almost too much on their relatively much shorter stretch to the spot near the school.

They had actually promised to meet under the bridge a little bit farther away from the school itself.

TK was actually surprised that they weren’t the first ones up. Koushirou was already sitting on the small ledge with his laptop open in his lap, and Ichijouji leaning against the ledge next to him. Sora was standing near them, an extra carrier bag in her hands, on top of the red backpack on her back. Takeru was further away, staring somewhere on the sea horizon. His older self didn’t have a backpack, but a fairly large, off-white, carryall bag that could be used as a cross body bag with the dark grey strap. It was a bag his current form couldn’t ever have supported without collapsing, accentuating the difference, not just between their heights, but masses as well.

Miyako started the small-talk immediately to ease her nervousness. It gave TK some privacy to keep his eyes on his supposed future. The morning message and the sender-ID troubled him, and staring at his own back didn’t offer him answers. More than that, after the first acknowledgment, Takeru hadn’t turned around, despite his unfaltering stare.

Eventually, Daisuke arrived running.

“Is it odd to leave?” Sora asked from Takeru who had slowly walked to the forming group.

It was a very simple question, but a one TK himself knew he would never have had the nerve to ask.

“Odd? –– Maybe a little.” The man answered.

“Is it different?”

Both Takeru and TK smiled simultaneously at Sora’s innocent and friendly inquiry.

“The city?” Takeru surmised. “Not too much. Odaiba has stayed as less packed area than Tokyo in general — building wise.”

“That must be weird too.” Sora gathered gently, making Takeru give tiny laugh that resembled more of disbelieving snort.

“Time is different. The mood is different. Not the places themselves that much.”

It was a very roundabout answer, and TK could feel himself making an expression when he tried to find the main point of the story.

The discussion died down but luckily they didn’t have to wait for long before they could spot Joe running from the other side and Hikari from the other, the supposed leader and vice-leader of the group behind her.

“Sorry, we’re late.” Taichi eventually offered once his breath had evened down to normal parameters.

“You’re fifteen minutes late.” Koushirou noted without a hint of exasperation.

“Sorry.” Taichi repeated with a tint of red in his cheeks. “So, we are heading to school now?”

“Actually, we aren’t going to use the computer.” Takeru issued with his voice even and calm. 

“What?”

 “But how are we going to get to the Digital World then?” Sora asked, mirroring the other’s exclamations and questions.

“We can’t be certain that we’d end up in the right place when using the computer portal.”

“The Digivices?” Koushirou offered after a moment of silence. “But we need a more open area. Not to mention that people will see us.”

Takeru replied with a smile that was customary than genuine. “True. And we couldn’t be sure if we’d end up in the right world.”

“Right world?”

“A long story.” Takeru replied to Yamato’s musing. “We can create an own portal and transfer through that. We need to move a little further on the beach to get some cover, but it should work just fine.”

TK listened to the line of questions but he could analyze that they would prove out to be redundant. He couldn’t yet say much about his future self, but there was a sense of no-bullshit authority, not to mention, size and age that they wouldn’t be willing to sidestep at this point. They were being presented only with threats linked to their existing habits and with no other means to cross the barrier, they would need to go with Takeru’s plan, whether it would be their first choice or not — because Takeru clearly would go on his own and leave them if deemed necessary.

Their decision was eventually made Takeru’s affirmative to Joe’s umpteenth question of “We can actually just open a new portal?”

After a short drag of their belongings, they reached a more covered piece of the coastline.

There was nothing. Just sea, sand, and some bushes and trees behind them. It was not surprising that they looked a little bit peculiar to be just standing there as a 12-head strong group.

“Ehmm. Now what?”

“Just wait.” Takeru commented, walking closer to the sea line that was at it morning low. TK stood watching like all the others, Patamon following the situation in his arms. Takeru crouched down and began to draw in the sand with his right hand.

And again. And again.

Despite the fact that the man was his back against them, TK could spot that something was ought to have happened few drawing-rounds ago. However, against the expected, there was no agitation fuming from the man as this repeated the ten plus marks over again, the lines becoming stronger with each time in the moist brown sand.

It was the sixth reinforcement when the marks glowed for a split-second, followed by Takeru drawing a line above them.

TK watched the man stand up, stepped past the line, look around, before turning around and walking back to them. “It should be safe to cross. Stay near the area, get out of the water, and try not to get into trouble.”

“Go where?” Daisuke asked dumbfounded.

“Cross over the line.” Takeru retorted bluntly, before adding with a slight frustration, “It’s not going to stay open for hours.”

“But there isn’t anything.” Daisuke continued, addressing what they all could see with their plain eyes. Takeru had walked back and forth, he hadn’t disappeared, there was a simple line in the sand on the cold early morning.

“If you want to get to the Digital World, you go over. Okay?”

Taichi was the first to make the decision, albeit TK could sense that even as the leader of the group and a steadfast bearer of courage, it wasn’t a light decision. Nevertheless, everyone watched the brown-haired teen to take a step over the line and disappear from view little by little with each step.

There was a moment of ‘What on earth?’ before everyone dropped their hesitancy and followed one by one.

The crossing didn’t feel that substantial, apart from a small tingle throughout his core. At least, compared to the feeling of falling through time and space on their first trip back to the real world three years ago. TK could sense the others around him and hear the rest of the group enter after him, but his attention or instincts weren’t focused on them.

The surroundings were all-encompassing. The murky, cold, sea from where he quickly tried to scramble away to the grey sand. The damp air that held an eerie voice every time a strong gust of wind broke the standstill. The blurry forest behind them.

He ignored the puzzled faces of the older Chosen and sought Hikari and Ichijouji with his eyes. Both of their frozen postures and shocked expressions carried enough anxiety that confirmed his own suspicions as the portal whizzed to a close behind them.

It wasn’t the Digital World.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter so far! Maybe even a tad bit too long, to be honest. Hope you still enjoy it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

”This is not the Digital World.”

The notion drew Takeru back from the darkness the sea and the voices created. Away from the promise of pain and perdition.

“This is not the Digital World,” Taichi repeated louder. It still wasn’t an accusation but a genuinely flabbergasted statement. It was accompanied by Joe’s “Where are we?”

Takeru focused on pulling the tablet from his bag.

Maybe he should have responded immediately. But the area was affecting himself as well, even more strongly than the others, even if they didn’t know that. There was a relentless feeling of drowning just beneath the surface, and, for him, with his ankles being washed by the small waves, it was more important to get a direction than take part in the chit-chat.

“This is the place where we…” TK began slowly before being prompted by Taichi.

“Where what?”

“Where Hikari disappeared,” Koushirou answered, having clearly managed to put the two plus two together. The notion made everyone take notice of Hikari and Ichijouji’s tense postures. Ken swallowed hard while Wormmon tugged his trouser leg to pull the boy from the place his mind was held captive.

“Correct,” Takeru confirmed, not caring to cushion the shock that followed his words. Everyone's heads snapped to him, but Hikari beat everyone with her hesitant comment.

“I don’t think it’s fully the same.” The comment didn’t weaken the shared feelings of anxiety or the sense of being at loss, but it generated a lighter feeling, that things weren’t as bad as they could have been.

Takeru heard Miyako’s ‘What do you mean?’ response, and let the silence follow it, appreciating the rest the following seconds provided him by allowing him to stay outside the conversation.

“Technically that was most likely Guard Level two or three, we are still on the edges of the first level.” Takeru finally clarified.

“You knew we were going to end up here?”

Takeru grimaced at the idea of Taichi openly challenging him from so early on, but battled with himself to let it slide. “We are trying to get to the Digital World. The original portals are not in our control. The Guard Levels with the slight distortions are closer to the Human World than the Digital World is, reality-hopping wise it’s the easiest.”

“But if we are in a completely different world...” Daisuke continued thinking along the same lines as Taichi.

“—Or a dimension,” Koushirou added.

“Technically we are in the Digital World, just a secluded part of it,” Takeru specified. “We shouldn’t stay loitering around.” He tabbed a few times on his tablet, sent a quick note to Angemon and started scrolling through the information of the surrounding area.

“We should head to the forest,” Taichi concluded after a small silence, taking a collective look over the group, seeking for consensus.

“No. We should walk through the clearing that begins a little bit further on the beach.” Takeru negated, raising his eyes from the tablet in mid-sentence.

“But that would leave us with no cover.” Joe commented as the polite version of the ‘Are you crazy?’ that Takeru could read on more than one face.

He sighed. “The things that live here prefer a shadowy forest over an open field. They also prefer the cover it provides for them. Only the most powerful creatures roam around, they might give us some trouble but it will save us from more constant attacks. Okay?”

_There was a long silence._

“And how do we get to the Digital World?”

Takeru wasn’t sure whether the question was genuine or a test for his trustworthiness, either way, he didn’t really care.

“We need to move closer to the boundary between the areas and find a pathway through. The pathways are quite few and afar.” ‘Not the least because Angemon has been fortifying the walls for the past few weeks’ Takeru added mentally.

Eventually, the group seemed to come to an agreement and accept his words. This sparked a tiny flicker of unhappy relief in him as they began their journey on the beach. The footprints he left in the wet sand were already heavy enough.

The wind was harsher than it had been in the future and his younger self had to hold onto his hat every so often to prevent it from being blown away. It was clear that no-one liked the area and he could even hear Patamon and Tailmon’s notes to utter the feeling out loud. Ichijouji was the quietest of the group and Takeru had to keep an eye on him to check that the boy hadn’t fallen behind of the group or become catatonic altogether.

Their steady progress was thus hindered by the need to stop often to keep the group tight and safe.

Angemon had warned him that it might rain but seeing the dark clouds over the sea fortified the feeling of looming peril. The nightmare of the walls collapsing and the darkness flooding to both worlds crossed his mind as a momentary jab of a knife but the danger wasn’t imminent at the moment.

They had been walking for quite some time before finally reaching the open land that could provide them a path away from the beach. There wasn’t much anything besides the treeline quarter of a mile to their left. They had passed a shantytown to their right many miles ago and he had felt the inquiring looks others had given to the grey building aside his own much more monitoring gaze.

In the sense, it was a relief that Angemon had offered to use the old methods to alter the time difference between the worlds. The emergency procedure gave them time to cross the barrier and hopefully fix the situation in the Digital World. The small changes in the system would cause a snowball effect were the existing distortions would evoke the Celestial defense that would increase the time difference in similar way the original distortion did. It had been originally a precaution against human-based threats, giving time for the Digital World to annihilate or adapt to the changes.

At the current time, the area was affecting everyone's mood so much that no-one had uttered a word for over an hour — despite their stop for a snack. Sora’s words thus felt like an explosion when she finally broke the silence while hand taking a piece of fruit from the plastic container. “You mentioned the Guard levels before, what are they?”

He meticulously put the onigiri back to its wrapping before answering; it was very clear that despite the superficial unresponsiveness, everyone was listening to the exchange. “Metaphorically it depicts Dante’s seven circles of Hell,” he began, earning a few taken aback reactions, “–in the Digital World’s perspective it’s sort of prison. Digimons that disrupt the order of things are banished from the mainland so that their effects are limited to these designated areas. Similar to the human concept, there are seven levels, each farther away from the area we perceive as the Digital World. The more serious the crime, the deeper they are condemned — HolyAngemon’s Heaven’s Gate tosses Digimons here.” Takeru added, making many of the group to glance at Patamon who was currently sitting next to TK.

“Piedmon?”

Takeru nodded to Joe’s question. “Or what used to be.” A feeling on uneasiness rolled through his back and shoulders.

“Used to be?”

“The darkness changes the beings thrown here. They become one with it. Get swallowed by it or relish it so much that it becomes their blood and bone.”

His words silenced the older teens from making any further questions, leaving an uncomfortable, dread-filled silence.

“The Divermons we saw metamorphosed into something different the last time we were here,” TK commented quietly.

“Darkness doesn’t have a form.”

He threw the last bit of onigiri into his mouth, and stopped himself from asking if the words scared them, keeping the budding mania to himself.

 

* * *

 

Miles after miles were passed in the persistent silence. They had stopped to take cover after spotting a looming figure on the edge of the horizon, barely visible under the low-hanging clouds. It had begun to drizzle an hour earlier, leaving an imprint on everyone's clothes.

“Are we going to walk much further?”

“We should stop for today.” Yamato continued on the topic after Sora’s innocent question. Sora was not a person to ask for a break for herself but she was worried over the youngest Chosen. Everyone was getting tired, and the oldest boys had taken turns for the past hour and a half to carry Iori on their back.

It wasn’t wise for them to stop but Takeru swallowed his opposition, knowing they still had over two hours of the journey left. “Sure.”

They eventually stopped near the forest line. It was getting darker and the temperature hadn’t been too warm in the first place. This only added to the gloominess and coldness of the damp clothes. “We need to gather some wood to spark it up,” Taichi noted, looking around and conquering the small patch of land they had with his demeanor. Despite the authority, it was clear that Taichi was feeling of the absence of Agumon.

“No fire,” Takeru stated, pushing the bag strap over his head, feeling the pain from the movement. “Sun rarely, if ever, shines here. There are no natural light sources. If we make a fire it will be visible for miles, maybe even dozens of miles. The energy of it a lot farther than that. It will make a note of us to every single creature in the vicinity, like blowing a whistle and waving a giant red flag.” Takeru hurried to explain to stop the objections. ”The temperature is not fatal. It’s better to be slightly drenched than eaten.” He concluded, noting the effects the moist sea-wind and the lack of sun had had on their clothes, fur, and hair.

Everyone submitted to the words and Takeru ignored the ‘This sucks.’ that Daisuke remarked and the extra seconds that Taichi stood unmoving on his spot.

In the end, they put up a tiny camp, agreeing to his terms that at least one older and one younger Digidestined should stay up with him, while the others tried to get some sleep. Most of the group was still awake, more or less miserable under hats, gloves, extra jumpers, and disposable rain-ponchos. The Digimons were more accustomed to cold weather conditions, but the combination of water and cold was novel even to them. Takeru kept the laugh to himself at the sight of Veemon, Armadillomon and others having a leg, pawn or a wing sticking out under the bundle clothes their partners had pampered them in. 

“It seems so harsh.”

Hikari’s voice was quiet and only a few paid attention to her words. While the rest just raised their brows as a question, Miyako broke the silence with a small and teeth-clattering, “What is?”

Takeru could guess the answer beforehand, despite that Hikari’s words were a reply to a discussion that had passed hours ago.

“To be imprisoned here, forever.”

The young girl's knees were drawn closer to her chest with Tailmon resting on her lap. Hikari’s brown hair was just short enough to be framed by the clear poncho, whereas Miyako’s hair battled against her will to be on the mercy of the soft drops despite her best efforts. Takeru let his eyes sweep over the direction they had came from, noting the sadness in the young teen’s tone. He could remember the times when he had thought the same thing — that at times — he would still question Angemon’s ethics over the matter. But it wasn’t his call. “The Digital World has its own order of things, we have very little say in that.” He replied in what had to be one of his most honest and gentlest admissions of the day, despite the throbbing pain in his left arm.

“Law of nature?” Koushirou asked, making Takeru look at him ponderingly.

“Maybe in a way, although the wording lacks the refinement.”

“It’s surprising that the Digital World is so organized like this,” Joe answered eyes following the same lines Takeru’s eyes had less than a minute earlier.

It was more of a statement than a question, and Takeru chose not to comment back. The difference between the levels of knowledge making him wary. The tranquilizer he had thrown into his food unnoticed by the others made him feel calmer, more distant to the current situation. Moreover, a fleeting line of thought of all the times they had used this area to cross between the Words with Angemon was rifled through in his head. Angemon’s worry, outward fright, of losing him in the area provided a comforting feeling. However, as expected, the mood was instantly overridden by the memory of HolyAngemon’s distress after he had actually gotten too close to the Heaven’s Gate a few years back. Angemon never got angry at him outside the times when he acted like a jerk and started a fight, but the dogmatism behind Angemon’s rebuking made the point come across. And, he was left with the feeling of failure to meet the expectations set to him.

His thoughts continued on their jumbled, sometimes distant, sometimes sparking up travel from the unknown corners of his mind to his awareness, amidst the tangible darkness around them that was only illuminated by the weak radiation from between the clouds.  He had dismissed the offers to sleep while others would stay up, and by the fourth dismissal the offers had died down. Sometime during the night, the rain had stopped. Still, everyone was wrapped in a variety of coital positions to stay warm on the damp field.

 

* * *

 

“TK, wake up.”

His fitful world of sleep was gradually diminishing from his consciousness only to pave way for being cold, wet and hungry. Honestly, the feelings had pierced his mind throughout the night but intermittent sleep had offered him brief escapes.

“TK, I’m sorry, but it’s your turn to keep watch.”

TK opened his eyes groggily, seeing Miyako’s yawning face, her hand shook his shoulder gently. The campsite was still dark despite that his watch-turn was the last one. Patamon mumbled an objection as he pushed himself upwards, the wet, hard ground feeling startlingly inviting after yesterday’s trek. Joe was already up, sitting hunched underneath his blanket.

TK thanked Miyako for the wake-up, gathering the sleeping Patamon in his arms and moving the few meters closer to the other two awake people; although he could see from the movements of the others that many seemed to be sleeping the same light and cognizant sleep he had shared a few content minutes earlier.

His older self had a dark cloak or a wide blanket on his shoulders; he wasn’t fully sure of what the garment was. The man didn’t greet him but looked at him for a good time — much longer than he would have preferred in his yet to be vanquished mistrust. Eventually, they settled for a silent and boring vigil. There was nothing to do, no fire to watch over, and everyone had stayed so close by that they couldn’t really keep up an active chatter.

“Have you slept at all?”

Takeru contemplated Joe’s quiet question for a second, “Short naps. It’s quite normal when keeping watch.”

“It can’t be good for a long-term.”

“Better than to be eaten.” Takeru hmphed. Despite that the response was just as fast as the first one, something in the words gave TK an impression that the notion was much more deliberate.

He himself didn’t like this place at all. There was something similar to the whirlpool in the ocean but it was only a faint whisper. What scared him more was the darkness around them, the abnormality of the scenery and the talks they had had of the place. He wasn’t alone like he had been in the amusement park three years ago, but this wasn’t a place where he was supposed to be either.

Takeru checked his electric device without any clear expression.

“Will we arrive at Digital World today?” Joe asked quietly.

Takeru gave a slow nod his eyes still on the device, before opening his mouth to answer but closing it immediately, eyes darting somewhere on his left.

They followed suit with Joe. TK’s eyes couldn’t focus instantly and he heard the Digimon, thing, before finding it with his eyes. There was a quiet sound that sounded closest to an exotic bird taken to a horror movie than a shriek or a melody. The noise was almost cackling and he had never heard a Digimon make a noise anything close to it. Finally, his eyes managed to find the shadowy, flying figure, probably two or three miles away from them based on his estimation. 

Despite that they were all keeping an eye on the figure, Joe appeared the most shaken under the threat. However, even TK turned to his older self, his own hand curling slightly over Patamon’s form. However, his older self gave him a minute shake of the head, eyes never fully leaving the object of their interest. TK couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a Digimon was out there, lurking to get them. Were the Digimons more powerful here? Did it know that they were here? How fast could it reach them?

In the instant, the withered trees seemed to close them in, and despite that the feeling of coldness was pushed far back in his mind, the rustling leaves and the wind were acute sensations.

A new, closer, cackle made him look at his older self again, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off the figure, expression neutral, but body tensed.

The third noise was the closest, less than a half-a-mile from them, but Takeru just raised his hand to indicate that they should adhere from action. As on cue, TK could see the Birdramon-sized figure fly over and continue its way over the forest, letting him catch up his breath with Joe.

The next hour passed by much more calmly, but the close-call made all the noises and illusions louder in its wake. The morning was finally beginning to dawn — as much as it did amidst the constant clouds — and the earliest risers were starting to wake-up and eat crumbs of their food supply.

TK had already taken a slight snack during their vigil and resolved to watch Patamon’s eating. His older shelf appeared bored again, but not in a detached sort of way. The effect was contagious as a yawn, and his own ears tried to pick up any perceptible noises.

He managed to hear a few rustles that were barely detectable before Takeru’s voice stopped him in mid-thought.

“They’ll jump up.”

For the first millisecond, everyone was confused for Takeru’s apparent answer to no-one, but with everyone trying to understand the words and looking up from their snacks, they could notice Angemon behind Koushirou and Miyako’s back; making everyone, indeed, jump a little from the surprise. Taichi and Sora calling Angemon’s name as if to confirm their eyes.

“Young,” Angemon said as a discussion piece, clearly directing his words to Takeru, while his gaze surveyed the group.

As Angemon walked around the group to where Takeru sat, TK couldn’t tear his eyes away. He could sense that everyone else as well, including Yamato who had woken up from his slight sleep thanks to the commotion, was taking in Angemon’s appearance. Seeing Angemon always brought a sense of calmness in him — a higher protector who would look after him and offer guidance. Whether a product of Angemon’s heroism, or simply a culturally etched image, or a combination of both, the feeling was one of a kind. However, he couldn’t overlook the changes in his partner’s appearance. Beneath the immediate resemblance, something in Angemon carried a different air. The weathers, while still white, had more rustle in them — a mark of wear and tear he had never even considered possible. There was a jagged scar starting from Angemon’s left cheek and continuing its path under while skin-tight fabric. It wasn’t angry red in color, but visible enough to generate a sympathetic feeling of phantom pain in his own neck.

He didn’t want to envision what other scars his partner’s future doppelganger might have been forced to acquire.

Apart from the scar and the wings, there were, in general, few more pieces of armor, a few more straps in the outfit. TK knew that Angemon wasn’t the type to openly sport his stance or battle hardenedness, but for the very reason, the aura was there. The complete lack of surprise, the neutrality and the indifference with which Angemon was taking the situation in, resembled TK of an action movie hero.

With Veemon still discreetly elbowing Daisuke, Angemon dropped the identical carryall bag next to Takeru’s one, and accepted the thermos Takeru handed out to him out of old custom. Angemon didn’t pay attention to their attention, but he gazed at TK for a longer than a quick glance.

Angemon drank almost one-third of the thermos in one go, wiping his mouth with his right hand.

The juice spout pouches and energy bars disappeared slowly into everyone's mouth, despite the fact that no-one paid any clear interest on what they were eating, not to mention what it tasted like.

“The path looks good?”

Angemon snorted at Takeru’s words, opening Takeru’s bag and taking a lot of stuff out to transfer it to his much emptier one: “Should be. We’ll have to decide where we want to continue from the Forest Entry, once we get there.”

Takeru tapped his fingers against the thermos in his hands.

“The connection pathways?”

“The two near the White Sandstream River and the Northern Tree Reservoir are closed. Singular ones are left.”

The two discussed solely between themselves, not even bothering to include the rest of the Chosen into it. TK could only watch the act of utmost meticulousness, in other words, Angemon packing his carryall bag, before Koushirou piped into the discussion, “But we’ll meet the Digimons in the Forest Entry?” earning a nod from the two.

 

* * *

 

Angemon proved out to be an even brisker walker than Takeru. Not to mention that they didn’t stop nearly as often to navigate. They did take breaks, during which Takeru focused on his tablet but it seemed to be less for finding the right direction as much as it was for something else.

Angemon hadn’t said anything to them but TK got the impression that it was to refrain from commenting their pace or age. His quite open surveying was revealing him that the only person whom Angemon seemed sincerely and acutely care was his older self — despite the fact that the man wavered the least in the pace they walked in.

Despite the worn-out and concerned looks, the young teens exchanged once in a while, their spirits were raised by every mile they covered further away from the sea. The landscape was less bare and the air felt easier to breathe.

Ultimately, they reached a spot near tall boulders, and after checking the surroundings for any possible threats, Angemon began writing in the sand with his staff in a similar manner Takeru had in the Human World the day before.

The crossing itself didn’t feel any different, but the change of environment was instantaneous.

The sun was shining.

_And there were colors._

Miyako even took her helmet off in awe of the life around them. It didn’t take a long trek before they could hear familiar voices calling for them.

“Taichi!”

Their partner Digimons rushed from behind the trees, and Agumon huddled to Taichi’s open arms.

With Patamon on top of his head, TK felt the others’ relief strongly. A quick look around proved that the other younger Chosen shared his sentiment, smiles on their faces as they watched the older Chosen’s obvious happiness.

However, Palmon didn’t have a partner to greet. “Don’t worry, we’ll find Mimi soon.” Miyako comforted the green plant-Digimon and picked the Digimon in her arms.

Even Takeru and Angemon watched the reunion with understanding.

“How will we get Mimi here?” Sora asked once everyone had settled down.

“We should move closer to a portal. We can try to work on it with Koushirou.” Takeru answered amidst his quiet discussion with Angemon.

“But why didn’t we all then come through a portal?”

“Because unfortunately, I lack the technical expertise. Plus the journey was safer with more Digimons with us. We still don’t know whether it will work or when, so…” Takeru answered to Iori.

“We should head on,” Angemon added, his voice neutral but unyielding.

“Can’t we take a small break?” Sora asked, complementing Taichi’s _“Now?”_.

”It’s not a long journey and you can have plenty of rest once we reach the spot, okay?”

TK was surprised that the rebuttal was given by Angemon; the Digimons rarely, if ever, herded their trips in the Digital World. His older shelf’s non-reaction was another thing that caught his eye; he had gotten used to that Angemon or Pegasusmon pursued to guide his actions only when he couldn’t see past his motivations himself, thus leaving him surprised and forced to reflect the angel Digimon’s words at critical times. His older self’s lack of surprise, on the other hand, spoke of singlemindedness, preconceived agreement.

He could see his reaction mirrored on the faces of others as they weren’t accustomed to arguing against their partners.

 

* * *

 

Their destination was an idyllic, small island amidst crossing streams. There was some forest, small patches of land and rocks on the north-western side. Near the south side sat a 90’s computer, drawing Takeru and Koushirou’s focus.

Gomamon and Tailmon were fishing while Agumon started a fire. The sun was less blistering here and the wind offered a soft breeze. All in all, the place was a stark difference compared to the Guard Levels.

TK watched his older self and Koushirou discuss over the computer, they both staring and occasionally pointing something on the pineapple laptop’s screen.

Angemon had disappeared from view once they had arrived. However, no-one paid any clear heed, happy just to be able to sit down, eat and relax.

Eventually, Takeru walked closer to the group.

“Any luck?” Taichi asked, two fishbones on the ground next to him.

The same feeling TK had had from their first meeting sprung to life as he watched the polite smile on the man’s face. “I’ll leave Koushirou to it.”

“You’re leaving Koushirou to ––you’re leaving?” Yamato exclaimed dumbfounded after a collective silence.

“You are just going to leave us here?” Taichi questioned, right hand held up in a stopping signal as if the mere gesture could freeze the situation. Angemon had already hoisted the bag on his back when Takeru had walked to the group.

“You are actually leaving? Where? —— Why?”

“This is not your battle, nor is it your war,” Angemon stated to silence the cacophony of questions. The words weren’t dismissing in tone but they were in meaning.

“You should stay on the island, it's safe.” Angemon continued, helping the second carryall on Takeru’s back. “Koushirou and myself have a way to contact us if anything happens.” Takeru continued while grimacing faintly from the weight of the bag.

“How long will you be gone?” Yamato asked, standing up.

“It’s impossible to estimate. Might be a few days, might be a few weeks or more.” Takeru answered curtly.

Everyone, humans and Digimons alike, were left dumbfounded to stare after them.

“You can’t just leave us here!” Daisuke shouted to the two gradually disappearing backs, never getting a response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juice spout pouches (if that is the correct term) are a very rare item in my country and I didn't know the correct term in my native tongue either. It was fun to try and find it from the web with word like 'jelly', 'plastic' and 'Japan'.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New kudos - again!? The comment section has been really silent both here and ff, so I'm worried whether people are enjoying the fic. Getting kudos always makes my day a little bit better^^ That being said, if you have any questions, comments, improvement ideas, etc. I'd be happy to hear them so that I could improve my writing.   
> Thank you for taking your time to read this fic!
> 
> Dislaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.

_“Ah, Takeru.” Shou’s curious expression changed into one of understanding as the realization hit him. The black-haired man waited silently while Takeru thanked the assistant for leading him into the office. Takeru added an apologetic expression to his greeting when he saw the amount of work that was piled on the older man’s desk._

_Shou leaned forward on his elbows and gestured him to sit down. Takeru took the initiative and opened his bag to let Patamon out. A brief flash of light later, the angel-type Digimon greeted Shou likewise before taking his spot next to the back wall._

_“It’s been a while. What brings you here?”_

_“You can’t guess?” Takeru countered from his seat, eliciting something between a snort and a laugh from the older man._

_“Touché, what is it?”_

_“I’d need a refill of the store.”_

_Shou twirled the ink pen in his right hand, surveying him and taking a glance at Angemon. He was clearly taking his time to ponder the situation before enquiring further into the subject, “You have been away for long?”_

_“Closer to eight months. Might be a longer trip this time.” Takeru replied acknowledging the amusement the absurdity of the situation provided._

_Shou sighed, not happy with the self-help of his patient. “You have eaten the prescription I gave you last time?”_

_“Mhmm. And I meant… everything.”_

_Shou got up abruptly, moved unhurriedly to Takeru’s side of the desk and looked at him for a long time, clearly unhappy with the news. He signaled Takeru to take his shirt off to check on his health._

_“The situation is difficult.” Shou eventually concluded, referring not just for the medication, but for the attacks in the Human World as well._

_Another sigh._

_Shou listened to Takeru’s heart, asked him to cough and show his tongue before concluding the exam with measuring Takeru’s blood pressure. The automatic blood pressure monitors were the norm — even in much smaller municipality hospitals — but Shou favored to resort to artisan methods when he needed precision and time to think. Takeru didn’t mind since Shou had proved many times that he was just as diligent as the youngest brother in the family._

_“How is he?”_

_Takeru raised his brows; he had learned to expect the override of his view, having to admit that maybe Angemon was, indeed, sometimes a more reliable interpreter of his health and mood._

_“He is doing fine,” Angemon replied evenly, giving an acknowledging smile at the gesture. With all the years, Angemon and Shou had found a connection around the shared goal of keeping Takeru alive._

_“What are we talking about, another year? Two? Just in case, or…?”_

_“We don’t know,” Takeru admitted self-deprecatingly._

_Shou toyed again with the pen, “I can give you the usual prescription. The anti-anxiety medication… I have some test-group packets at the lab,” Shou issued, nodding absent-mindedly. “If you think you’ll need the heavy analgesics… As your doctor, I wouldn’t recommend the same product to anyone who has had any addictive symptoms in the past. Takeru, you have recovered extremely well given the earlier dose and it would be quite unbeneficial. They affect the neurotransmitters of the brain via the synapses. Just because you have stopped using it and battled the withdrawal symptoms, your brain structure is still different. You wouldn’t be starting from scratch but with an increased predisposition to the chemical.” Shou explained, looking as much at Angemon as Takeru. “I really wouldn’t recommend it.”_

_Takeru had had the conversation with Angemon for four times. A tiny part of him relished the idea of renewing the prescription while the rest of him hated himself for even considering the thought. “You know we have tested everything on the market; they are the only thing that helped. I’m unable to function otherwise.”_

_Shou sighed heavily at Takeru’s words, agreeing with the message. The doctor stared at Angemon, weighing the situation and asking for the angel Digimon’s opinion, before nodding unwillingly at the request. “Okay.”_

_Takeru didn’t know how much he minded about how far into the grey area he was pushing Shou to. The man knew the Digital World, understood the abnormality of the circumstances and had agreed to treat him years ago. Not to mention that Koushirou was helping them to cover their tracks. The methods were borderlining malpractice but under the doctors’ vow, the actions were necessary to help him as a patient._

_Shou wrote the prescriptions with lots of scrambled characters on his own notes and few clearer markings on Takeru’s small, black notebook._

_“You need the muscle relaxants as well?”_

_“Yes.” Takeru looked behind him at Angemon, his expression grave at the immediate answer._

_“One? Two?... More than two?”_

_“How many can you prescribe?”_

_Shou laughed exasperatedly at Angemon’s question._

_“You know officially none to begin with… Five. –– They are not human medicine, I’ll have to call it through some people.”_

_“Thank you.” The two replied, knowing they were thanking from a medication shot so big it could kill Takeru with one doze._

_“You really don’t know for how long?”_

_“No,” Takeru answered, a small, ironic curve on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes._

_“You can’t get anyone to help you?”_

_“I don’t think that’s really possible in this situation. — They are more tied up in here, to their lives.”_

_Shou nodded, his eyes distant, “True. I heard there were some demonstrations.”_

_Realistically it was getting more than that for the Chosen but they both knew what Shou meant._

_Shou finished his notes, taking a good time to explain the dosage and usage of each medicine, Angemon making few questions here and there._

_“I’ll also prescribe you some generic stuff, it could be good for you given the circumstances.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_Shou shook the credit off with a move of his head. There was a sense of finality to watch Angemon devolve and Takeru to indicate leaving. “Take care of each other,” Shou called after them as Takeru gave him an even deeper bow than usually._

 

* * *

 

Angemon watched how Takeru’s right hand twitched.

The human had fallen asleep almost immediately once they had set up the camp.

In fact, they hadn’t even traveled far in terms of steps, but after two portals, their scenery was vastly different from the lush forest island they had left the young Chosen to.

Here, the bare rocks and the coarse sand gave much less room for anything living, the caves and caverns of the small mountains providing the only option for shelter.

Angemon let his eyes fall closed as he leaned against the wall. Like Takeru, he hadn’t slept well in ages but he knew that sleep was more essential to his partner.

Still, it didn’t fix the fact the neither of them was a sound sleeper on situations like this, not even with the sleep deprivation they carried with them.

Takeru’s nervous system was unpredictable due to his medication, not to mention the nightmares. The near constant twitches and miscalled nervous signals not only reached his hand or leg, but every now and then, Takeru jerked awake only to fall back asleep a second later. The near panic changing into insentient unresponsiveness so fast it was almost disturbing.

Angemon, on the other hand, was always wary, always on guard, like his role required. He had gotten accustomed to Takeru’s movements but a stronger wave of feelings passed right to his consciousness despite being asleep.

Takeru had gotten skinnier and overall frailer, but it didn’t take away his joy to have his human partner next to him.

 

* * *

 

Takeru pulled his hand slowly through his hair a few times. There was a sense of absence but Angemon could read that the sleep had done good, overall, there was less visible panic, less anxiety, on Takeru’s features.

“Mango?” Angemon asked, offering the piece before finishing the words.

Takeru ate it in small bites, mind not fully on the scene even if trying to listen to Angemon’s words to the best of his ability.

Angemon had learned to deal with Takeru’s altering moods — which did alarm him — but it was only a question of suppressing his own displeasure. There were times when Takeru was extremely anxious, either in a hiding from the world -kind of way, or rushing vigorously towards things. On other times, he had to motivate a passive Takeru who, either didn’t feel close to anything at all, or was breaking down from everything. The past few years had brought back pieces of the happy go lucky -boy who generally enjoyed life and wanted to be nice to everyone. However, Angemon could feel that even then Takeru was weighed down by the gathered melancholy.

He wasn’t sure when the others’ would spot the differences in Takeru. Because Takeru was a good actor, good at keeping his mask up, but the longer one looked, the more evident it was that part of the balance that had described Takeru’s character had taken a hit.

Takeru asked him for the fourth slice and drank good mouthfuls of water afterward.

They were going to try and stop the energy flow simultaneously from all Dark Towers. The lack of solid plan might lead to problems, but they had no other direction to go than to head to the Kaiser’s base, hoping that they would find something from the systems they could use to destroy the directive.

 

* * *

 

The base didn’t look any different; it lied heavily scuffed and half-covered in sand on the open desert.

There was an excess of Dark Towers on the area; the finding surprised them since time had erased some of the details of the mission.

The sun was almost blisteringly hot and had it been a less serious occasion, Takeru knew Angemon would have used the chance to comment on his lack of hat.

They were waiting for an attack the whole journey from the small mountain cliff down to the valley and closer to the base. Their only advantage was the open scenery that would alert them of any air or land traveling foes. Angemon walked half-a-step ahead, guiding Takeru with his free hand at time to time.

They managed to find the small opening on the far end of the structure. Most likely they would need to check both the core and the bridge —both far off from their starting point in the unstable, labyrinthine structure.

“It’s quite worse for wear,” Takeru commented after Angemon had helped him to climb up the small passage into the first chamber.

Angemon turned his gaze towards Takeru but didn’t comment anything.

“The core?” Takeru asked, his tone more upbeat compared to the morning, ready for a mission.

This time he earned a nod, “It should be closer.”

Angemon turned to continue towards the high-up openings in the tilted structure, but the movement was intentionally slow to urge Takeru to reach his spot, become at arm’s length once again.

If the desert had been disquieting because of the lack of shelter, the Kaiser’s Base was making them restless for the complete opposite reason. Unlike the sunny, open air, the place was closed off to the point of a claustrophobic nightmare, the wires and rubble that filled the small, twisted caverns made moving difficult. On top of that, there were nearly constant cracks from every direction that echoed in the metal chambers behind the walls, indicating that the structure’s best before date was long overdue.

However, the most alarming factor was the concentration of darkness they both could sense with every fiber of their being.

To anyone watching it would have become clear with every turn and step that it was not only Angemon keeping Takeru close to his power, but Takeru actively staying close to his partner as well.

He had had countless nightmares over the years how their mission to infiltrate the facility with Iori could have gone wrong in their youth. His mind had created so many possibilities that together with everything else in his life, he wasn’t at all sure how the events had actually transpired.

Takeru could remember his fight with the Digimon Kaiser, but everything else was much hazier. He had drowned here with Angemon on many nights, the force of the swirl pulling the Base to its arms amidst their fight. The two of them alone in the hallways. Angemon trying to hold onto him, while the water filled the endless maze that offered no daylight, more and more water entering to his lungs with every inhale.

* * *

_So much blood._

* * *

Angemon touched his back once to spur him onward in the present. And then the hallways were the same but the flood of water replaced with few grains of sand.

Angemon gave him another soft nudge to keep him moving.

The core was relatively easy to find, the large open chamber filling a major part of the backend of the Base.

The angle of the tilt distorted the view, but they were four to five stories above the platform that had crumbled close to the opposite side of the chasm.

Some people say that when you experience something traumatic the smell or sound sometimes associates with the event. For some, it’s the smell of a smoldering plastic, for others the sound of their spine breaking. However, the concept of energies is much more rarely used. The non-escapable sense of evil that sharpens all senses.

This place was exactly that. Years ago, when he had been a teen just like the Chosen now, he could remember talking to the others about his feeling, but apart from Hikari and Ken no-one had gotten the point of what he had been meaning — even the two seemed to perceive the feeling in a different way. For Hikari and Ken the melancholy and darkness contained partially something inviting that could be submitted to. Something that offered solitude to their core in its greyer forms, whereas for him it was something he fought and feared to the bone. Something that affected him so repellently that it made him see its shadow even in completely harmless things.

Angemon was the same as him, however, with the absence of the acute fear. Takeru didn’t know whether the resentment and hate lied so deep within Angemon’s original programming that it left very little room to feel the fear on a regular basis.

Even right now, Angemon watched him, waiting for him to swallow his nerves and let the angel Digimon carry him to the platform.

The fly over the void managed to stir something in Takeru’s gut. Angemon could carry him with some effort — that wasn’t a problem. Somehow the logic worked in their favor as the partner Digimons grew with them. In Angemon, the change more in the power, whereas Pegasusmon was also noticeably bigger than he had been in the past.

There wasn’t much left of the central platform as they landed on its broken remains. The whole main pipe-structure had collapsed but there was enough left from the core for Takeru to plug his tablet in the spot where the crest of kindness had once resided.

“This will take some time.”

Angemon gave a half nod to Takeru’s words, sparing him only a small glance while trying to keep an eye on all the levels and hangars that opened to the core around them. The cracks and rumbles from the metal, not to mention the occasional falling sand, didn’t help and Angemon didn’t attach the Holy Rod to his back but kept it in his hand.

“Koushirou would be much better at this,” Takeru said to pass the time. A tiny boost of power from the tablet and he could get into the system but he wasn’t an expert at reading it. There were outdated files, corrupted files, pathways for energy, but as the time passed by he was becoming more and more certain that this port couldn’t give them a pathway towards what they were looking for.

Suddenly, Angemon stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Takeru shut the display immediately to expel the light source and joined the search.

It was very dark inside the station but the place radiated a small glow that enabled them to try and find the looming figure — _and for it to find them_.

Finally, Takeru spotted what Angemon had already found, a human figure five floors up, staring at them for a bit, before walking away from the opening.

There was a sound of laughter that echoed through the place; the cold laughter became more shrilling and deeper with each note.

* * *

_Takeru screamed._

* * *

Takeru’s vision turned blind with the chills that coursed through his skin.

However, as no immediate threat showcased themselves, Angemon slowly eased his tight grip from his good shoulder and nudged him on.

“I’ll run one more check to be sure, but I don’t think it’s here,” Takeru commented eventually and received an agreeing nod from Angemon.

They would have to make their way deeper into the Base, to the bridge that was now deep underground behind the broken pathways. They had a rough map of the place, but with the collapsed dead-ends it didn’t help them all that much.

Neither one of them liked the idea of walking into a possible trap but the sense of responsibility drove them onward.

With every turn, the pathways got darker and harder to get through with Angemon’s size.

There were a few times when Takeru was almost unable to get on the move again once they had had to stop to wiggle their way through an intersection or a passage.

_What_ could attack them here?

Then, finally, they entered the main bridge that Ichijouji had used to monitor the path of the Base. The impact had crashed the front glass and the whole room was heavily tilted towards the front.

They had to fight against the slope to reach the computer portals on the side, Takeru once again plugging his tablet in and working as fast as he could with his shaking hands.

In some scenario, the place would have felt deserted and they would have had all the time in the world, however, in this world, the situation felt like diffusing a bomb under the eyes’ of snipers.

Takeru managed to spend enough time in searching through the system to realize that they had very little to go with, and even that was too much for his knowledge to beat.

Could the towers be operated through a decentralized system?

_“Well?”_

Takeru’s head snapped towards the doorway of the room. Angemon getting ready to attack.

Digimon Kaiser’s figure loomed over the room.

“Find what you are looking for?”

Takeru and Angemon just scowled back, Angemon tightening his grip of the wall panel and Takeru, keeping them steady next to the console against the tilt of the room.

“You dare to come in here?”

The words were similar only in form. The question contained more playfulness and less anger than it had when voiced by Ichijouji in this same place but in a very different time.

_And by a very different being._

“What do you want?”

Takeru knew it was weak from him to go straight to the point instead of reversing the question and attacking back. Nonetheless, right now, their only goal was to get out of the system and come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t about the luck of finding something useful to cease the derailment of the Digital World. This was about the luck of getting out of the situation alive.

“You think they are doing fine without your babysitting?”

_It was an overly airy question._

Takeru gritted his teeth.

The inclination of the floor seemed to grow slowly but steadily. The Kaiser had his head tilted to the side, watching them.

“You think I care?”

The moment of epiphany and unsavory realization hit Takeru with the first beat of the gleeful laughter that rang in the room as an answer to his words.

“Go to Hell.”

Had he been close enough, and had the imitation been solid enough, he would have relished to repeat his past and strengthen his words by punching the Kaiser to the ground.

“How long are you going to play this role of the good guy? Isn’t it getting ––tiresome? And this power of Darkness that you are trying to control? Do you even know what it means?”

Takeru’s eyes flashed with anger.

The Kaiser, however, paid no real heed while he supported himself on the doorframe amidst the growing tilt of the room. “We’ll see.”

There was a final snap of fingers as the Kaiser’s figure turned and disappeared from view.

The whole structure tilted in seconds and began to fall deeper into the ground as if the whole desert outside had just become a sea of quicksand.

Angemon lost his grip from the wall and they were sent freefalling towards the bottommost sandbanks and hit them back first. It wasn’t the first time for Angemon to temper an impact, and he could recover from the paralyzing sensation by instinct. He didn’t let go of Takeru while pushing himself and trying to get enough air under his wings. A throat-irritating cloud of sand mushroomed around them, burying them in fine dust.

The sudden shift in the situation left both of their nervous systems reeling and survival became the only goal, even more powerful than the all-encompassing panic when they could feel the fast sinking of the structure. Angemon flew them as far as he could in the maze, but the pressure of the sand, combined with the movement itself, was too much for the corroded structure and the narrow passages they had climbed through less than two hours ago were now even smaller and harder to squeeze through.

Takeru’s left arm couldn’t support his weight while climbing. Angemon’s wings got caught on the broken edges of metal and rubble. They were sinking deeper and deeper into the ground in record time.

* * *

_Blood._

* * *

Laughter was ringing in Takeru’s ears and he had to gasp for breath.

“Takeru, help me evolve!”

Takeru turned down to look at his partner, his brain not fathoming the words during their first circuit.

“Takeru, I need to evolve.”

Angemon tried to keep his own head together and his more collected command had the desired effect. It was very rarely he felt the need to evolve to HolyAngemon but they would make out of this otherwise.

There was a small moment of insecurity in Takeru’s eyes, fear over the energy he would transmit. However, their slow-motion staring amidst the decaying structure fueled Takeru’s determination and soon Angemon could feel the energy he needed to obtain his higher form.

“Angemon digivolve to HolyAngemon!”

HolyAngemon immediately caught Takeru into his arms and pulled his sword and shield to use, “Excalibur!”

Takeru shielded his face the best he could out of instinct as the metal and sand around the fell into dust while HolyAngemon flew upwards holding his shield around them.

After long seconds of dust and marred light, they finally reached the ground, the light hitting their eyes after spending half-a-day in the near darkness.

However, against Takeru’s expectations, HolyAngemon didn’t drop him immediately on the ground but issued a final attack.

With a fast spiral later Takeru could hear the closest Dark Towers cracking as they hit the ground, HolyAngemon breathing uncharacteristically heavily as the angel Digimon lowered him on the sand.

Takeru’s balance wobbled once he was on his own two feet and he had to take few mislaid steps before finding his footing; the feelings from the close call attacking him with full force now when the situation was over.

“We need to check up on them,” Angemon commented at him, voice raspier than normal.

Takeru nodded, accepting the opened bottle of water and spattering the first mouthful to the ground, head hanging down and hair covering his face from view.


End file.
